


MIA

by Holde_Maid



Series: Highlander50_-_Methos [15]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Community: highlander50, LiveJournal Prompt, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Prompt Fic, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holde_Maid/pseuds/Holde_Maid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a WIP story, so far all written within the Highlander50 challenge. This should yet become a longer story, for which one would need to know the basics of the Highlander lore and several characters from the TV series.</p><p>Summary of Chapter 1: Encounters with death tend to be traumatic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With Unseeing Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Claim: Methos (whom I do NOT own, alas.)  
> Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor any part of the Highlander universes are mine. Also, no harm intended and no profit made. Not even trying to. :-)  
> Author's Note: Thanks to jinxed_wood for the prompts!  
> Prompt Table: http://holde-maid.livejournal.com/11492.html#cutid2. 
> 
> For Chapter 1:  
> Prompt: Blind.  
> Rating/Warnings: PG-13 - Warning: There's blood and gore going without mention, but no violence.  
> Word count: 900 or so words  
> Author's Note: Thanks to marys_scribbles for instant beta! All errors remain entirely my own, unless you want to claim one. :-P

It was just one little moment of diverted attention. Mia looked at Andy, the love of her life, for only a brief moment to cup his cheek, then back at the road again. In that one instant, fate intervened.

While she was turning her head to the front again, the little sports car ran over a cat that had suddenly decided to cross the highway. The steering wheel jerked, her fingers slipped on it, and now the car was drifting to the right. She yanked it back. No, too far! Mia braked frantically.

When something hit the car from behind, she fell forward. Even her feet were thrown off the pedals, one of her sandals getting stuck behind the gas pedal. The car was now completely out of control, veered to the right again while spinning to the left, all far too fast.

No, actually, it all happened very slowly. Mia saw everything clearly enough, but her reactions, her own motions had slowed down along with time. She knew they were spinning across the highway, but her arm took ages to find the steering wheel, her foot was stomping on empty air when searching the clutch pedal.

Another bump, this time from the side, and they shot across the embankment. Time and thought stood still. Trees were coming closer. One sturdy fir leapt forward and hit her, together with comprehension.

Everything stilled.

 

Mia's first thought was, "Is Andy...?" She had opened the seatbelt and turned to him before she knew she was doing it. The headrest had been set too low, his head hung back across it. His eyes were lifeless.

While she realised that all of a sudden everything she was or owned or could do had become pointless, she thought she heard a noise. Something told her the car was exploding. She would not be able to get out in time. "I don't need to."

She never got a chance to kiss Andy one last time.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

 

Mia was sitting in the grass, crying. She had no idea why she was here, no idea what was going on except she must not look up at the thing that gave off that horrid burnt smell. With unseeing eyes she stared down at the grassy ground. It was ... safe. She clung to the sound of her own sobbing - it afforded her no comfort, but it gave her something to focus on. There was absolutely nothing she could do but cry.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

 

A sudden sense of danger shook her out of her stupor. She had not been aware of the growing noise, but as it became louder, the warning intensified. The danger seemed to draw closer, enshrouding her like a huge stuffy cloak.

She had almost stumbled to her feet, when her eyes fell on the burning car wreck. She stared at it. Andy's name suddenly filled her mind. Her knees gave. No matter the danger, she could not leave Andy. He must not be alone. He was... He couldn't protect himself anymore. Only she could.

Dumbly she watched the blinking light come closer. The siren stopped when the car came to a halt. A long-faced man stepped out. He looked as if he felt the danger, too. He eyed the burning wreck.

A few things finally registered. Highway patrol. Burning car. Fire was dangerous. Andy...

Andy was dead.

She stood and turned in one motion, running into the wood. The danger was behind her now, but it was growing stronger. A creek was opening up in front of her. She narrowly avoided falling off the edge of the cliff. Breathing heavily, she stared down. Far below her, a waterfall rumbled.

Part of her dimly recalled crossing the creek on a bridge and Andy mentioning its beauty to her. Then she had cupped his cheek...

She went a few steps backwards. A few more. Her fear did not matter any more. She knew now what to do. A few steps, a jump...

She was just setting off, when her clothes held her back.

"No, you don't," a voice told her sternly. "If you want to kill yourself, take my gun, but I'm bloody well not going to scramble down there to find you."

He still held her by the collar, but she could turn around to face him. Her eyes found the holster, but then his gesturing hand caught her attention. She looked up at him.

Something hardened in his eyes. "It's not going to last."

"What?"

"Death has already rejected you once. You can shoot your brains out, but it's not going to last. Our bodies are rather fond of life."

She watched him uncomprehendingly.

After a while, he stated, "We shouldn't be here. Will you be good if I take you elsewhere in the car?"

His words still were devoid of meaning to her, so she just nodded. He nodded, as well, turned and started walking. She followed. There was nothing else to do.

As they neared the highway, he suddenly turned around and stretched out his right hand, reaching for hers. Grasping it, he drew her closer. His left arm snaked around her neck to cover her eyes, while he pulled her along, continuing toward the highway. "I know it's your last chance to see him, but don't look. It's not a sight you'd care to remember for the next few centuries."

Ever since the first jerking of the steering wheel, she had felt dumb. Slow. Blind. But now that physically she couldn't see, a spark of light began to spread a dim light in her soul like the first hint of dawn. Sometime soon, she would see. For now, while she was still blind, she would go along and let the uniformed stranger do his duty; there was nothing left for her to fear.


	2. Hazy Prospects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that has happened, nothing is clear and logical anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating/Warnings: PG-13 tops  
> Word count: 1438 or so words  
> Author's Note: Thanks to Lady Meme for help with idiomatic expressions!

  
The long-faced man didn't take away the hand that shielded Mia's eyes. She was thankful for it. As she stumbled over grass and uneven ground, she might have looked up involuntarily. The idea alone made her choke, but so did the smell, the sound and the heat from the burning wreck as they passed it.  
  
Finally they reached an edge and stepped down onto a different sort of ground. Pavement, probably. She heard a key and a car door. Even when the warmth of the fingers across her lids disappeared, she kept her eyes closed. She wanted to shut everything out, to feel nothing, know nothing, be nothing.  
  
"Get in the car." The voice was not unfriendly, but it betrayed impatience.  
  
As she obeyed, there was a metallic click. Mia started. And another. Slowly she opened her eyes. He had snapped a handcuff closed around her wrists, tying her to the door, which he now shut from outside. Moments later she saw him talk into a radio. She didn't care.  
  
Andy was dead. Dead. He was dead, was dead, was gone. Forever. She started crying again.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
The front car door opened, the man dropped into the driver's seat with a sigh. He started the automobile and drove off at high speed.  
  
After a while - Mia had calmed down a little - he told her, "I've bought us a little time. They think I'm chasing you, because you lost your mind. Not far off, is it?" he asked in a conversational tone. "Now, tell me about yourself."  
  
"What do you need to know?"  
  
"Everything. Name, profession, hobbies, you name it."  
  
Mia realised she must still be very stupid, because neither his tone and casual demeanor nor his question made any sense to her. "My name is Mia. Mia Thompson. I'm a teacher."  
  
"A teacher of what?" he inquired when she hesitated.  
  
"Elementary school." As if that mattered now.  
  
"Nothing useful, then," he commented with mild sarcasm. "You know all the stuff everyone else knows; you just know it a little better." His tone changed. "Never mind. Go on."  
  
"Until today I..." Tears were choking her. "... I used to be married."  
  
He said nothing for a while, his concentration obviously on driving. After they had overtaken a schoolbus and two trucks, he finally told her, "It's always hard to lose a soulmate. But trust me, killing yourself is not a solution. Not for someone such as you."  
  
"What do you mean, such as me?"  
  
"Later. Tell me about yourself first."  
  
Oh well, what did it matter? "About what?"  
  
"Whatever comes into your head. Just keep talking." Humour crept into his voice. "I don't expect you to lay open your heart to me just yet."  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "I don't need to, right now. It's obvious enough. My life's in ruins, that's all."  
  
"Yeah, it often starts that way," he retorted languidly. "Give yourself a year or two, and you'll be right as rain."  
  
"God, you're insensitive!"  
  
He was not in the least offended. "Most charming part of my personality."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Now, that is a good question." He chuckled. "For the moment you can call me Ben. But once my colleagues arrive, I'd rather you called me officer."  
  
"Oh. Right." They guy had a curious sense of humour.  
  
"So, what are your hobbies? Any martial arts training, or wood-work, or airobic? Anything like that?"  
  
"No. I go riding every..." No, that wasn't right. "Went riding."  
  
"Riding's good. Therapeutic. You shouldn't stop now that you need it most."  
  
She fought to suppress an outburst of grief and anger. "We used to ride out together."  
  
"I see." His voice was colourless now. "We'll find something."  
  
"Do you have any animals? Dog, cat, ... canary?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Anyone or anything else that needs taking care of? You'll want to call your family."  
  
"There is nobody. My parents threw me out at age sixteen, and ..." She swallowed hard. "We only had each other to hold on to. Maybe that's why we were so inseparable."  
  
"You really love him, hmm?"  
  
"Yes, I ..." God, it was so hard to say it! "I ... did."  
  
"No." The officer's tone was sincere and full of warmth now. "You still love him. His death doesn't change that."  
  
Finally her strength was used up, and she could hold back no longer. She started crying again.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Watching the woman in the mirror, Methos asked himself for about the sixteenth time what had gotten into him that he'd decided to start teaching her.  
  
At least he knew for sure that she really was a newborn Immortal, because he had seen the accident happening from the lane going the opposite direction. He had seen the car explode, and at the same time the curiously tingling sensation that potential Immortals often brought on had disappeared all of a sudden. A candle snuffed out to make way for a glaring light - he knew the sensation only too well.  
  
It had taken him some time to come to a decision. The truth was, since he wanted to keep this job, he had had no other option than to go back and take official note of the burning car wreck. Especially after it had been radioed in. So he had responded, saying he'd make a U-turn as soon as possible.  
  
By the time he had arrived, the woman had already revived. His guess was that the impact of the explosion had sent her right out of the car. Else, the burns would have been to extensive to heal that quickly.  
  
But why had he had to interfere when she had wanted to dive down the cliff? It wasn't as if it made any difference, really. He wouldn't have had to go after her - what was it to her if she died again and again? More to the point, what was it to him?  
  
On the other hand, there were enough nutcases among Immortals as it was. Having friends could raise one's chances of survival considerably. Students tended to become friends, so perhaps the idea of teaching this Mia wasn't quite as inane as it felt to him.  
  
  
If only she'd quit weeping all the time.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
The highway patrolman had said he had bought them a little time. For what?  
  
"Where are we going?" Mia asked. They had left the highway a while ago and were now meandering down a set of narrow curves that took them down into the creek.  
  
"We are visiting Smoky."  
  
"Smoky?"  
  
"Yes. She's a bit of a therapist. I think you could use a session with her."  
So that was why he still had not asked her about the accident. He thought the therapist would be better at that.  
  
He drove on in silence. Soon they turned into a gravel road. After a few hundred yards, they reached a wooden house with a tipi in its garden. A whitehaired woman came out. Mia guessed her to be a Navajo, but she couldn't be sure. The wildly coloured apron dress stood in wild contrast to the dark, sunburnt face.  
  
Ben got out of the car. Mia opened her door, so that she could at least hear what they said.  
  
As she approached, the old woman told Ben, "I've expected you. Who are you bringing with you?"  
  
"A desperate child. She has come to see Smoky."  
  
The old woman smiled. "Ah, yes. Of course. Smoky always makes time for the desperate." She chuckled. "Come in."  
  
The officer went over to Mia's door and opened the shackles. Then he stood back so she could get out and go with the old woman.  
  
Their little procession followed a path that ran around the house. At the back, there was a crude wooden door. The Indian pointed at it and said, "You go in there. You can't miss Smoky." She grinned at Ben. "We sit in the tipi."  
  
Ben's eyes had not left Mia. He ordered, "When you are ready, go inside the house, call the police. Tell them about the accident. And don't mention me. Do you understand?"  
  
She thought that was very strange, but she nodded anyway. Calling the police could hardly be wrong.  
  
Then she opened the door and went into the dark stuffy room.  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
"Hello?" Mia asked when her eyes had gotten accustomed to the comparative dark. "Anyone here?"  
  
A cat meowed.  
  
Looking around, she realised it was sitting on a shelf to her left and looking down at her. The cat was grey - a curious shade of grey that looked, indeed, rather like thick smoke. "Are _you_ Smoky?"  
  
The cat purred and dropped from the shelf to sit on the ground. _Meow._  
  
Mia started laughing. While she sat down on the floor, leaning against a wooden table, the laughter turned into sobbing. The cat came and rubbed its head on her leg.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	3. Moving, Dresssing, Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Everything is changing, nothing is clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lair.  
> Rating/Warnings: PG-13 tops  
> Word count: 2,940 words

  
  
After goodness knew how much time Mia grew aware that sitting on the floor and stroking the cat had calmed her. She stood, mumbling her thanks to the cat like a kid. She stretched clumsily and scanned the room in search of a telephone. There was none, and no door leading to other rooms, only the one through which she had come in. She went out. There had to be another door somewhere.  
  
It didn't take her long to locate it. Upon entering, she found herself standing in a curious room whose use she couldn't make out. There were two work-benches, two sofas, a tv set, a bycicle leaning against the wall, where it wasn't covered by tall flat cupboard with hundreds of small drawers. Above the bicycle, an odd assortment of tools hung on nails. Among them, a stethoscope, three hammers, a horseshoe and a fishing rod. Suspended from the low ceiling, there was one of those big glaring lights that dentists use, and a huge dreamcatcher with a price tag.  
  
She went on to the open door at the far end. It was an office, small and orderly. It boasted a telephone and a computer that looked pretty futuristic in here, surrounded as it was by furniture that had evidently been here since the 1940ies or so.   
  
She took up the receiver and placed an emergency call. The voice at the other end of the line was calm and curt. By contrast, Mia felt quite incoherent, and incompetent. She could give so little information. When the lady on the other end asked where the accident had taken place, Mia could only name the highway and describe the creek, hampered by sobbing. Since she wasn't there anymore she couldn't give a lot of clues. She didn't say anything about Ben, only mentioned the Navajo woman, when she was asked for her current location. The lady seemed to know the place, told her to stay put and rang off.  
  
There was nothing to do now. Except, maybe she should tell Ben how her call had gone. She stepped out into the garden, and slowly walked towards the tipi. Briefly she thought she heard Ben's radio. A moment later, the old woman emerged from the tent and gave her a nod. Her eyes were smiling.  
  
While she was walking towards her, Mia suddenly felt as if she was walking into a wall of fear. She stopped involuntarily. What was this? The feeling was so strong it almost seemed physical. Wait, she'd felt that earlier, by the car. Her lovely little... God, no! She couldn't go nuts just now! She couldn't let the terror of the accident follow her. No, she must fight.  
  
With set teeth she moved on. Just as she had hoped, it seemed to get a little easier after a few steps. She was breathing hard, and her eyes darted around, even though she knew it probably was Ben's presence that had recalled her earlier terror. Her fingers had curled into fists in her trouser pockets, but she wasn't going to succumb to that trick her mind was playing on her. She took a few deep breaths, forced her hands to relax, drew them out of her pockets, and dove into the tipi. She couldn't stop herself from crouching as far as possible from the long-faced man sitting on the furs inside the tent. But at least she was here, facing the situation.  
  
The Navajo woman's voice came from outside, "I must work. Find me inside, if you need me."   
  
Ben called out his thanks, before he returned to watching Mia. He lounged there calmly, obviously not bothered by the strong smell of the dried herbs above them and the smoke from the fire between them.   
  
"So, you're not afraid of me," he finally asked. A smirk played around his lips, belying his words.  
  
"I'm sorry. Is it that obvious?"  
  
He gave a kind of half-nod, and the smirk deepened.   
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
All of a sudden, Methos was no longer sorry he had taken this newborn Immortal under his wing. She had got ... something.  
  
Sure, every Immortal had _some_ thing. Some attribute that gave them a chance of survival. Duncan had his strong beliefs in the survival of all that is good, and in his own doing "the right thing", whatever that was. Richie was a natural when it came to swords and bikes - fast, and quick in the uptake. Cassandra had her gift as a seer. Methos himself had his intellect. The list went on and on.  
  
But by now, such attributes rarely managed to capture his interest any longer than it took to size Immortals up in terms of how much danger to himself they meant.   
  
He wondered what gift Mia had. There was something to her, but he could not yet put it into words. Some strange kind of resilience that had to do with her weakness. Oh well, he could figure it out later, provided he could get her to follow his orders as precisely as she had so far.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
While he had kept watching her for a few silent moments again, the curve of his mouth had grown a tiny bit softer. However, now his lips moved with an impatient twitch, and the softness was gone.   
  
"Mia." She met the eyes that were looking at her intently. "Listen to me. My colleagues will arrive any moment now. I don't care a fig what really happened. Now, what I'm going to do is feed them a version of the accident that will let you go free despite running off like this. Also, it will stop them from sacking me for bringing you to this safehaven. Let me do all the talking and listen very carefully to what I say. You will have to repeat it in detail later, when they want a written statement from you. Can you do that?"   
  
She nodded. "Yes, but don't you need to know the truth?"  
  
"You can start telling me, but we may not have the time." He nodded at her. "Spill."  
  
"It's not much, anyway." Mia just went on talking through the tears and the sobs that that were now returning with a vengeace. She told him as clearly and in detail as she could, but actually, most of it was but a dreadful whacky blur to her.   
  
He had kept his silence, until she was finished. Then he spoke to her in a very gentle voice. "I am going to drive you where I should have taken you in the first place, if I had followed protocol. The story is that you went off in a daze and here you came to your senses. You have no idea how you got here. Got that?"  
  
"We are not straying far from the truth," she remarked sarcastically.   
  
He laughed briefly, but heartily. "Let's go to the car. I will tell you as much as I can on the way. But first, tell me just one thing."  
  
She looked up. What was he going to ask?  
  
He was very serious now. "Do you trust me?" She noticed that his green eyes reflected the dying fire on the ground between them.   
  
"I don't know." How could she? All she knew about him was he had taken her to a cat, for crying out loud, instead of doing his duty.  
  
"You'd better. Because every moment I spend in your vicinity puts my life at risk." How could that be? The reprimand from his superior would hardly be physical, let alone life-threatening. "You have much to learn, not the least about yourself." Not very helpful. But he was so very sincere. He really believed in what he was saying.  
  
"Are you some kind of spy or just nuts?"  
  
"Spy is a bit closer to the truth, and trust me, you've looked closer to nuts than I have today, and that's saying something." The grin he gave her was self-deprecating and quite charming. "Come on, let's elope to my work-place."  
  
That kind of humour reminded her devastatingly of Andy, and she broke into tears yet again. But since she could think of nothing else to do, she still took the proffered hand and allowed herself to be propelled out of the tipi.  
  
Ben briefly asked if she was listening to him. At her nod, he filled her in on his version of the accident and the ensuing developments. First he gave her a rough layout, then, when he had made her sit in the front passenger seat and they went off in a much slower pace than before, he began to add details. One or two of those sounded as if he had only just thought of them.  
  
Mia tried to remember as much as she could. She wanted to be alone as soon as possible, and she dimly realised that that was pretty much what he tried to achieve for her. She really tried, but she still found herself very inept. So finally, she interrupted him, "Wait. I can't... It's too much."  
  
"Hmmm. I see. Tell me what you can remember." His tone was colourless. She wondered how this could be the same man who had spoken so kindly to her in the tipi.  
  
"I was just checking the rear mirror to switch lanes, when the car hit something, probably an animal." His tone might have been colourless, but hers was downright flat. "I tried to get the car under control and slowed down, but then another car hit us." She bit her lip, because the last word had reminded her of Andy. Somehow she managed to keep herself from losing control all over again. But suddenly she felt too tired to go on. "I'm not sure what exactly happened after that. All I know is I came out of ... a waking dream or something in the house of the old lady. I can't for the life of me tell you how I got there." That much was true. She hadn't been aware of her surroundings for some stretch of time.  
  
He hesitated. "Hmmm, yeah, that might work for now. You can remember the rest later, after you've learnt it by heart."  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
In the end, everything went both less and more according to plan than Methos had anticipated. Occasionally he wondered why he hadn't just let her die properly, but there was no real reason for regret. The woman was examined by a psychologist, who declared she was not fit for an interview, but should be taken to hospital. Methos was told to take her there and see if he could get a statement from her. It was all much too easy, but there was no hitch that he could see.  
  
As he had known it would, the trip to the hospital proved a little more difficult. They couldn't quite believe Mia's body was in mint condition, and her mind was working sufficiently well for them to release her after the usual checks. When he got a chance, he told her to invent some reason why she needed to get home and suggested a guinea pig. She looked at him with empty eyes for so long that he called a nurse. But apparently, she had understood alright. She asked if she could leave, mumbled the suggested excuse, and within half an hour they were leaving the hospital.   
  
Emotionally, Mia had put herself on hold. The dam broke every now and then, but Methos was not sure she had realised the extent of the personal catastrophe, not to mention the fact that she had been dashed lucky that none of the other drivers involved had been hurt. Their reports might yet be a bit of a problem, if they stated that nobody had left the car before it exploded. There was no use pondering this now, though, as there were more pressing matters to be attended to.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
"Where do you live?" Ben asked while they were walking towards the car.   
  
Mia gave him the address, and they rode along in silence during the whole two hours. She was thankful that the officer wasn't forcing her to talk to him. She was tired of talking. She wanted nothing better than a blank mind and nothing to think about.  
  
For a little while, she slept, but then suddenly she woke with a start. Her head hurt, and memories of what had happened darted through her mind like mice trying to escape a cat.  
  
There was this strange little incident, when she had realised she didn't have her glasses anymore. He had told her, without anything to go on, that she now had perfect eyesight. The odd part was, it was true. Maybe what he'd said earlier, that she had things to learn about herself, was true, after all. Ben sure knew something she didn't.   
  
She was still trying to make sense of some of the memories when they arrived. She fumbled for her keys. They were gone. Of course. They still were in the car. With... No. No, not now. She closed her eyes, only just managing to suppress another bout of crying. When she opened them, Ben stood in front of her car door, something that looked like a coat over his arm. He opened the door, she got out.  
  
"Well, thank you for bringing me," Mia mumbled hurriedly. "I suppose I'll see you when I make my statem..." Catching his eye, she broke off.  
  
He was smiling at her with the mildly disappointed amusement of a teacher who stops a pupil from cheating for the tenth time. "Don't. I cannot allow you to go in there and kill yourself for your neighbours to find. Besides, I have things to tell you."  
  
She sighed. "Look. I'd let you in, but my keys are..." - she bit her lip and desperately prayed her mind wouldn't show her the image she so feared - "... in the car. It'll be a while..."  
  
It was no use. He shrugged and rejoined, "Don't worry, I can be of help there. Show me the door, would you?"  
  
During the following five minutes Mia dicovered that Officer Ben carried a set of skeleton keys in the pocket of the coat on his arm. And he knew how to use them. Once they were in the apartment, he went through all the rooms, clearly taking stock of everything. Finally he returned to the kitchen and opened all the cupboards.  
  
"Now, Mia, I want you to find me a large box. Box _es_. And your spare key, of course. Do you have storage space in the cellar? We'll need the key for that, too."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you need to pack everything that reminds you of... What was his name?"  
  
She felt a tremor go through her body as she thought of him. "Andy."  
  
"You want to pack everything that is his. His favourite foods, his clothes, his bunny slippers, notes in his writing, everything." He paused and gave her a searching look. His voice softened. "We're not throwing anything away. Just put it all out of sight. You can no longer live in the love nest this used to be. We'll make this _your_ lair, instead. Else, you'll lose it every time you turn around."   
  
That made sense. She nodded slowly.  
  
"Good. Then let's get to work."   
  
They purged every room of reminders and put them in Andy's study. They worked for hours without speaking. Box after box was filled, things disappeared quickly and left empty spots. First the bedroom was cleared, then the kitchen, and now they were working on the living room. Ben carried the whole CD case out and told her to pick out only a few CDs that she felt were safe and could stay. Then he started rearranging the furniture, pushing everything back against the wall. He didn't seem to be tired at all, even though it was nearly midnight and they had been at work without pausing since about six.   
  
Finally he dropped into one of the armchairs and stated, "Enough. The books will have to stay for now." He looked at her. "Can I pinch a beer?"  
  
She nodded. The beer was hers. Andy had preferred wine. White wine. There still were lots of bottles in the cellar. She felt a sudden urge to go and have one last look those, too, but she didn't have the energy.  
  
Tears started to roll over her cheeks. She had no strength left for holding them back, even when Ben returned from the kitchen and handed her one of the two beer bottles he had taken from the fridge. He said nothing and sat in the chair again.  
  
After a while he said, "You'll have to call the school first thing in the morning. You are not fit to teach, and they might sack you if you don't let them know what's up."  
  
"I'm not supposed to be home yet. Besides, what does it matter. I've got Andy killed." She bit her lip until it hurt enough for her not to lose control. "My life isn't worth a dime."  
  
Without a word Ben got up and fetched the coat he had hung on the coatstand by the door. From its folds he disentangled something metallic. A knife? It seemed to grow longer and longer as he drew it out. The coat fell on the floor, and Ben was holding some kind of medieval sword in his hands.  
  
His gaze was devoid of emotion as it came to rest on her. "Tell me," he said in a clear, deliberate voice, "do you want to die?"  
  
If he thought he could frighten her out of her stupor, he had another think coming. "No," she shrugged. "I just don't know if I want to live."  
  
He smiled. "I'm afraid you can't help that."  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	4. Flight from a Trip Gone Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia must move on. Preferably to Holy Ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Travel.  
> Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for some violence; so far, unbeta'ed  
> Word count: 5065 words  
> Author's Note: Thanks to all those who encouraged Mia!

  
Officer Ben reached for Mia's hand, turned it around and lifted his sword. She watched in cold blood, sure that he was only testing her. But the sword kept moving and did not falter. Just before it touched her wrist, she panicked. But even when she pulled with all her might, her efforts seemed to have no effect at all. The edge cut a thin red line across her exposed wrist. The line widened, brimmed over. It hurt.  
  
The sword was gone now, as was the man in front of her. He was still holding her arm in place, but while the pain had registered, he had slipped behind her. "Watch it!" he ordered loudly. As if she could have done anything but stare at the blood that was flowing over the inside of her arm.   
  
Strangely, it was really just flowing over the brim, not squirting the way she'd seen on tv a few times. He had not cut deep enough, then. Still, it hurt.  
  
She wanted to get her first aid kit, but she was held captive with such skill that she could barely move.   
  
"Feel it." His voice was quieter now, though the urgency remained, slicing through the deafening voice of her terror.  
  
The pain was sharp and hot, like a papercut. But there was something else. A ... not sizzling, more like... Her mind was automatically grappling for words. Tingling. Itching. Yeah, somewhere between those two.  
  
As she watched, the blood flow seemed to subside. Something like tiny blue ants had set to work.   
  
Ummm... No, she couldn't really be seeing this. Some trick of the mind, right? It looked like bits of light edged in blue. So small and erratic it could only be her brain acting up. Ants, lights,... she was either going nuts or about to become unconscious. Or both.  
  
A cloth appeared in her line of sight. His right hand had let go. He had slipped the cloth through under her arm and was now wiping away the blood. No ants. No wound. Just smooth skin.   
  
"Tell me what you are thinking." The voice was colourless again. It held neither kindess nor cruelty. It was neither calculating nor curious. It held everything back and gave nothing away. She wondered how much that cost him. How much it might cost her.  
  
She looked back at him defiantly. "A magician's trick. What makes you think trickery will get me to trust you?"   
  
For the second time today he let out a brief hearty laugh. Yeah, the turn of phrase had sounded old-fashioned even to her own ears. Then he stopped abruptly to proclaim in a low voice, "No death, no matter how messy, is going to be permanent for you. None, except death by decapitation. You burned to death today. Do you have to repeat the experience to believe me?"  
  
"I didn't..." She hesitated. The pain. There had been a sharp drop into nothingness...  
  
First, the fire. It had filled the car, her eyes, her mouth. It had cut her off from Andy. Noise had imploded her, invading her every pore. Pain. The pain had been unspeakable horror. And then, while bits of glass had filled the air as she was catapulted out, that sheer drop...   
  
Everything had stopped, and then she had woken lying crumpled up in the grass. Drawing breath had hurt. Getting up had taken ages.   
  
By then the inside of what remained of the little sports car had only been so much charcoal and stinking plastic.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Her frank gaze gave Methos opportunity to watch her realize he was right. She had already come a long way, considering she had only just died the first time today.   
  
Things were clicking into place, readying her for more revelations. First she was remembering, then drawing conclusions, and then the fragile house of cards that was her composure fell apart for the umpteenth time.   
  
He let go slowly and stepped back.  
  
When you died, losing a loved one into the bargain made everything much harder to grapple with. Losing a loved one was always devastating. It barely grew easier with practice, as he knew from hard-earned experience.  
  
He waited patiently, wishing he could get himself another beer. But right now, leaving her alone seemed less than wise. He wondered if there was anyone close enough to dump her on them...  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Andy! Oh, Andy! She wanted so badly to be held by her lover. Why was he gone? How _could_ he be gone if she was still here?!?  
  
It took her a while to get a grip and stop crying again. Her head hurt. Of course it did. She had explained that to her pupils often enough. The muscles on the forehead got cramped when one was crying hard. And then there was the loss of water... Suddenly she grew aware that Ben was not holding her anymore. She sank to her knees.   
  
"You do want to live," the officer stated coolly while he leaned against the wall. "Now you'd better learn how."  
  
Anger dried her trears more effectively than conscious effort. "Don't you think you're being a bit arrogant? I know how to live on my own. I didn't always have..." - she swallowed - "...a soulmate."  
  
He snorted. "I was rather counting on you to run your life yourself. But there are others like us, and very few of them would treat you with any of the restraint I've been showing." Suddenly the blade of the bloodied sword was under her chin, almost touching it. "Meet an Immortal, and most of the time you will have to fight for your life. _That_ 's the part where I find you wanting."  
  
It was true. Part of her responded automatically, it shied away from the sharp edge beneath her jaw. That simple, animal part of her did not want to die.   
  
"You have much to learn," the tall man stated simply. "For now, the safest place for you is Holy Ground."   
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
His mention of Holy Ground only got him a blank look.   
  
She couldn't be unaware of the concept, could she? Surely it would only take a word or two, he thought, and suggested her taking a post at a school in a monastery or the like.   
  
Immediately she set herself to pondering his question, answering it with queries of her own.  
  
She was blessed with a resilient mind, this one. The thought that it was so tugged at his heart, weighed it down. It was an attribute he had always valued, in many a friend and many a lover. Most of them, however, were gone. Mia was only just beginning to learn what that meant. Perhaps killing her would have been kinder than this. But then, perhaps not. She would live to find out, for she herself had chosen life, after all.   
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
They had kept talking and planning until well after 1 am. Mia really liked the idea of going to live somewhere else, now that she had realised she could cram Andy's things into a fairly affordable storage space. Finally Ben had suggested she lie down on the couch, while he'd sleep on the floor. Together they had gotten her mattress from the bedroom, because she couldn't bring herself to touch Andy's. Not just yet.  
  
And now he lay there breathing evenly, just across the room. His eyes were open, she fancied, looking up at the ceiling, but maybe she was just imagining that. She, at any rate, couldn't sleep. She was dog tired, emotionally and physcially exhausted. The only problem now was the hunger. They hadn't eaten all day. At least, she hadn't.  
  
Mia considered getting up, but was a trip to the kitchen worth the effort? She couldn't drink enough beer for her stomach to stop rumbling; it would only make her sick, instead. Unfortunatley there was not much else in the fridge. Before she and Andy had set off for their vacation, they had taken care not to leave anything perishable lying around. All the bread and veggies and things had either been used up or taken along. But at least thinking of the heat and pain raging in her empty stomack was better than thinking of ... today's events. Not having to think at all would be better yet, though.   
  
At length she got up to see if there was anything, anything at all edible, in the kitchen. A chocolate bar finally did the trick. Thankful, she fell into the black depths of sleep.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Methos had managed to find a neighbour who could handle Mia while he was gone. The lady was a mother of five and could use the help. Her brisk, friendly tone and the distraction of having to take care of an infant was just the thing Mia needed. For the moment he could return to his post without worrying about her.  
  
As he drove back, he wondered who could teach Mia. Amanda didn't seem the type. There were a few others, but perhaps he could try Cassandra. When he had last seen her, there had been a glimmer of forgiveness. Not much, but she hadn't tried to kill him, at least. And the truth was, she was a very good teacher, so far as he knew. One of the best. It must be because of her sensing what her charge needed, he guessed. She could push them within an inch of their limits.  
  
He grabbed his mobile phone and called Duncan MacLeod, asking him for Cassandra's phone number. Duncan's voice immediately dropped from warm and welcoming to below zero. "What do you want with her?"  
  
"MacLeod, would I call you if I meant harm to her? I've got some grey matter left, you know."  
  
After some hesitation, Duncan ventured, "Listen, I don't think she wants me to hand out her contact details." His violent past was still hampering him, especially when he was trying to be useful. How ironic.  
  
"No, not to me. I know. Can you at least tell her a new Immortal needs a teacher? She doesn't even have to see me, just the girl."  
  
"Sure, I'll tell her. But..." There was a chance she'd take this as her cue to come and try to kill Methos.   
  
"Yes, I know." He owed both Mia and Cassandra risking this. Even though there was never a guarantee one would win a fight, no matter how much weaker the opponent seemed.  
  
They both hung up. Well, _alea iacta est_ \- the dice were now rolling. All one could do now was watch to see the outcome.  
  
Five minutes later, the cell phone rang. Probably Mac calling to say Cassandra had declined. He sighed.  
  
To his surprise, it was Cassandra's own voice that greeted him with a cold "Methos!"  
  
"Good morning, Cassandra," he breathed uneasily.  
  
"What got into you to ask my help?" The anger was undeniable, but her resentment had been overcome by curiosity, he judged by the fact that she had called him in person.  
  
"You are a good teacher, that's all. This is not for me, it's for a new Immortal. She died together with the love of her life."  
  
"Forget it." Not as angry as he would have expected.  
  
"So you take your hatred of me out on the poor girl." He sighed. "Well, that's your privilege."  
  
"I'm not taking her off your back", she sneered and rang off. What a pity.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Mia had been restless and insecure after the first martial arts lessons that Ben had given her. She had felt terribly helpless in his arms. Sure, he didn't choose to do serious harm. Also, he kept reminding her that even if he were to break one of her bones, it would not stay broken. But at the end of the day, had he wanted, he could have broken each and every one of her bones, one after the other. She could have done nothing against it.  
  
But now she was getting the hang of a lever hold for the first time, and relief filled her. It was a step ahead. This moment, more than anything else, proved that, yes, Ben was right, indeed. She did want to live.   
  
Actually, he was a strange man. Sometimes she wondered if he had multiple personalities, considering the way he abruptly changed and became someone very different at times. Now as he charged at her, grabbed hold of her left hand and pushed her back, he had shrugged on the coat of a darker personality. Someone who took what he wanted without any qualms. His grip was tight enough to hurt. The flexible mouth was slightly pursed, his eyes on hers, his voice deep, rough and intimidating. If she hadn't known better, she'd have found him quite fearsome now.   
  
As it was, she managed to keep the fear in check and start the counter-attack he had shown her. Still, what a different man he was now, compared to the rational thinker he was as a highway patrol officer!   
  
Also a different man from the martial arts teacher he had been a moment ago. He had explained things in a strangely emotional voice. Here and there biting wit surfaced, but she didn't mind. Her father had been like that, too. If anything the mildly derisive remarks gave her strength, made her feel accepted as an adult. His sarcasm told her he expected her to learn all this in time. She was not a hopeless case.  
  
From that sentiment, it always was a bit of a shock when he became an attacker, as he just had. This time she hadn't been fast enough, but at least she knew what she was doing wrong. Now it just took practice to get the timing right.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
Methos was impressed. Mia pursued her training doggedly. At least she was willing to learn, even though she was still not emotionally involved with the idea of surviving.   
  
He hoped that would change when she started teaching again. Meanwhile he had helped her find a job at a school which, indeed, belonged to a monastery. It was reasonably close to his place, and it included free lodgings on Holy Ground. A good start.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
It hadn't been hard to place the boxes into the trunk of the car, or to see Ben drive off with them. Her biking over to the storage space saved them a trip or two. But here at the final destination of the boxes, things were different. The place was clean but to her it already smelled dusty.   
  
Worse than that, the more crammed everything got, the harder it became to stack the boxes. It was just so wrong it almost hurt physically when she touched the not-quite-smooth surface of the cartons. Andy's things shouldn't be reduced to so much luggage.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
Methos's thoughts were roaming as he rode back to Mia's place, leisurely driving after her bike. His respect for the young Immortal had grown further when she had overcome her hesitation to leave her lover's things in the forgetful anonymity of the storage place. She certainly knew how to control her emotions. That would come in handy at times.   
  
Actually, several traits made her a worthwhile pupil. Even so, he resented finding himself forced into the role of her teacher. So for now he had confined himself to teaching her a few basic open-hand techniques and preparing her move to the monastery. All that was safe ground. No need risking to go any further before he'd made quite sure there was no other teacher available to her.  
  
At least there was no serious emotional investment on either part. Mia was still in love with her Andy. Methos himself harboured a touch of paternal feelings for her, and that was all. No danger there.  
  
In fact, things were moving along much too smoothly. Sure, the trial wouldn't be easy, but even apart from that some sort of trouble was overdue. At her age you didn't just leave your love and your life behind without complaint. That wasn't normal, and probably not healthy, either. Nobody was that strong, or in control of their emotions if they did have any.   
  
He sighed. Why couldn't he just ignore his own pessimism, enjoy the lovely sunshine and be done with it?  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
This was the last piece that needed to be removed from the flat. Her bag: a few clothes, a little bag with indispensables like her tooth-brush, a bottle of water, the most important documents. The necklace she had gotten from Andy.   
  
The necklace went with his ring, an unobtrusive affair she always wore on her finger. Ben had been right, Andy's death did not mean she was any less engaged to Andy, or any less in love. Tonight she had dreamed she had lost the necklace, and she had searched for it frantically until she had woken. So she had placed it in the bag. She felt safer with it there and not in the trunk of the car.   
  
She lifted the bag, and went out through the door without looking back. They had already checked all was in order, and she had no desire to stay longer than necessary. Now that Andy's things were gone, it was easy to leave the apartment behind. It held none of his spirit. Not anymore.  
  
They crossed the undersized parking area. This was where, less than a month ago, Andy had shown her the car after pretending he'd forgotten her birthday. It had had a huge pink bow tied all around it. She had been speechless. She had always loved sports cars, but she had never been able to afford one. It had been beautiful.  
  
Ben had walked ahead to do the oldfashioned thing and open the car door for her. She found herself staring at the open door. All of a sudden she knew she couldn't get in. She just couldn't. It was impossible. The car door was waiting for her like the open mouth of a huge moray eel, a cold and poisonous threat. She couldn't move. Rooted to the asphalt, she felt encapsulated by a thick glass wall.  
  
She didn't see him coming, but she knew Ben's hand would touch her there, before it actually lay on the small of her back. His presence had melted the glass walls behind her.   
  
He did not push or pull. He merely said "I know" in that benign-priest-sort of tone that he employed only very rarely. Then he just waited.   
  
No, he didn't know. She was not afraid. She was numb and somehow removed from the world. She was ... dead.   
  
Mia would have loved to turn to him, throw herself into his arms and cry at his shoulder. But how? The car door was still staring back at her. It had the transfixing gaze of a magician. It took away her will-power, her access to conscious thought.  
  
Suddenly Ben spoke again. "I could knock you unconscious, but you'd be sure to come around in the car."  
  
Unable to speak or even decide, she could neither assent nor decline. She couldn't even move when she lost contact to him. The glass bubble closed itself around her unchecked, and she was as good as floating alone in space.   
  
He stepped back, out of her field of vision. Now his hands were on her shoulders. They tugged ever so slightly. If he pulled harder, it might make her step back. Maybe she could walk around the glass wall provided she managed to move?   
  
His gentle pulling back had her leaning backwards. When he briefly slipped off one shoulder, she felt her stomach muscles react. Yes, that was right. She was still here. Her body was still here. She just needed to get through to it. She had to remember how to lift her leg and take a step. The tension in her body increased with the pressure on her shoulders. Please, please!  
  
Suddenly he let go, and as she stabilised herself, one of her legs was up in the air. It was free. A hard shove from behind made her stumble forward, closer to the wide open door. But at least she was free, she could move.   
  
Pushing back the image in her mind, she reached for the door to support her weight while she got up.   
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
While "Ben" was driving the car, part of his mind was still at the parking lot. The situation had been strange, and Mia was beginning to worry him. This was all wrong. Again, too fast. Too easy.   
  
She wasn't even forty yet. At her age, one didn't accept a lover's death, embrace Immortality and prepare for the Game all in one go. Mia just wasn't human! Could she really be THAT resilient? What was he missing here?  
  
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. She sat cuddled into the woollen cardigan that she had drawn around her hunched shoulders. Her eyes were closed but she wasn't sleeping. Her somewhat uneven and flat breathing would have given her away, if her uncomfortable posture hadn't. Perhaps he had been to rash in his judgement. It wasn't over yet. She was just holding out, not yet giving in to the desperation beleaguering her. But sooner or later, her defenses would fall.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
Mia was having a hard time getting her breathing under control. And her heart-rate, as well; and her mind, and consequently just about everything else. Sitting here in silence was all she could manage.   
  
It still wasn't that she was afraid, but a strange unrest had come over her and it refused to cease. When her pupils had driven her to distraction, she had always known how to calm down, but now... This was different. By now she had tried pretty much every single trick she had learnt in yoga and autogenic training sessions. None of them had taken much effect.   
  
After a while she heard Ben move and wondered whether he was going to switch on the radio or merely found his seat uncomfortable. But then she suddenly heard a familiar metallic noise and its source was dropped into her lap. She looked down at the handcuffs, then at the Immortal.  
  
"You're itching to get a tantrum, aren't you? Perhaps you could use some restraint." He was grinning.  
  
He was right, she was itching to do ... whatever. She didn't really have a clue. A tantrum was not exactly what she had had in mind, but it sounded like a mighty fine idea. Very tempting. Anything that would get her out of the car sounded tempting right now.   
  
The "itch" was so strong it had become almost physical. She could feel it all over her body, like a fine powder that covered her skin completely.  
  
She let her fingers explore the cold, hard metal. The shackles weren't a comfortable thing to wear, but they offered a comfort of sorts. She could hand over the responsibility for not attacking Ben to these things. The itch would still be there, but at least she didn't have to stop herself from trying to scratch it. That part she could leave to the handcuffs.  
  
She clicked one closed around her left wrist. What now? How did you fix it? Oh, yeah, car door. She looked. No, that little opening didn't look like it could hold back a half-crazed woman. Where had Ben fastened it? She turned her head to see the door by the back seat she had used on the way to that cute cat, Dusty. The door in the back was made for this, hers was not. She cursed venomously.  
  
"You'll have to watch your language. At least when you're teaching." That remark brought her exceedingly close to using the shackles as a weapon instead of a safety measure.   
  
She shouted her anger at him with a vengeance. "I NEVER curse in school!" She knew very well what kids needed.  
  
"Alright," he sighed.   
  
They rode on in silence for a few more miles, before Ben left the highway at the next exit. He had clearly decided that the highway was too dangerous for now. They followed the road mile after mile, turning into ever smaller roads and dirt tracks. Finally Ben stopped the car in the middle of the wilderness and got out. Mia noted that he took the key with him, and she was none too sure that happened out of habit.   
  
She followed him out, asking, "What are we doing here?"  
  
"I'm going to tire you out."  
  
What, more training? Here? Now? "But then you'll be tired out, too," she voiced her uppermost worry. Tired driving wasn't quite as dangerous as drunk driving, she believed, but it was still dangerous. The last thing she needed now was to be involved in another accident.  
  
Ben answered her conclusion with no more than a condescending smirk while opening the trunk of the car. He handed her a slightly bent wooden stick, all new and shiny. It had been carved into a strange smooth shape and felt warm and reassuring in her hand. He took out another, this time a much-abused version. Then he closed the trunk and led the way to a meadow amid trees and bushes that she had already spotted from the car.  
  
He turned to face her and instructed, "Do your best to imitate me." He began to move. A short sequence that he repeated a couple of times. "Go on," he encouraged her. "Try it. I don't expect perfection just yet. Try it, and keep going."  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
He took care not to tire himself too much, indeed, and had her do repetitive exercises. For the time being he did not explain anything. While she repeated the sequence over and over, Methos viewed her stance and motions with a critical eye. He merely told her wether she was doing it correctly or not and waited for her to realise on her own what exactly her mistakes were. As a last resort he would use the Sokratic method of teaching now and then.   
  
Thus he kept her occupied by increasing the difficulty so she had to concentrate very hard. At the same time he was being bossy on purpose, but Mia didn't seem to mind. She had not yet reached the stage of opposition, any aggression was still aimed at herself. She was at the very beginning of the journey that lay ahead. Peace of mind was still many leagues away. The first step was taken, but no more than that.  
  
This training session, too, was a step ahead, but in another area. A step closer to his own discomfort, not hers. It made her a little more his pupil. He had even asked Gina de Valicourt by now, but she, too, had declined. Unless he could think of anyone else, he'd finally have to accept Mia as his student, whether he liked it or not.   
  
So far, he had never taught her the use of weapons. But today he had decided to use the bokken. Firstly, because it was time for either of them to come to terms with their fate. Secondly, because the weight of the wooden sword would take its toll and exhaust her more quickly.   
  
Exhausting her was prudent now. She had complained that she was tired but couldn't sleep at all. When she did, nightmares woke her. The dreams took her back into the car, the explosion. Sometimes, she had admitted in a strangely bland voice, her lovers's burnt skeleton came after her. It was understandable that on those nights Mia was no longer sure whether she wanted to dream again or preferred to endure another sleepless night. Even as an Immortal one needed some proper rest, and overtaxing her body was likely to be the best way for her to attain that goal.   
  
After two hours he began to reduce the complexity of the exercises and the harshness of his tone. Conversely, he increased his own physical input by playing the attacker she had to fend off.   
  
Mia seemed calmer now. She was completely focused on the task. All was still well.   
  
Slowly he guided her on into the state where motion flowed easily and yet occupied the center of attention. From time to time he asked her to stop and repeat the whole sequence in her mind. Staying with the same moves he now demanded subtle variations of it by changing his own attack. She was no genius, but she didn't do too badly, given the lack of previous experience.  
  
Over the next hour he gradually took the tempo out of the lesson. Mia was very tired, but still he drove her on a little longer. Finally, he had her concentrate on remaining still and do some mental exercises. By now she was actually able to focus on something other than bodily movement. After a while he saw what he had hoped for: she had difficulties keeping her eyes open. He closed the training session ceremoniously and they walked to the car.  
  
They were three hours late, but what did it matter? He called ahead to apologise for the delay. Of course they knew about the accident, so his explanation stayed close to the truth, but left out the training.   
  
While he was still speaking, Mia started to snore loudly in the passenger seat. The familiar sound made Methos grin.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
Mia woke when the car came to a halt in front of the monastery. It was a large pompous building and had a very European feel to it. She felt quite small by comparison. But then, she was feeling weak, anyway, because she had been summoned back into reality from the depths of a dream. Something about fighting, and for a change she had been good at it. She'd been very reluctant to wake. Now her eye-lids were swollen and heavy. Still, something had improved, and she was inclined to be grateful.  
  
Clambering out of the car, she found herself greeted by a very short nun with a wolf's eyes. Her smile, however, nudged the resemblance towards a decidedly benevolent wolf. "Hello, Miss Thompson. I'm Sister Mary Magdalen. I hope you will be quite happy at St. Frances Catholic School. Be welcome in our little flock."  
  
"Oh, hello! Thank you. That's really ..." Something about the woman's black habit let only dreadfully outdated expressions stream into her mind. Oh, what of it! "That's most charming of you."  
  
The wolf eyes flickered in surprise, then serenity returned to them. "Well, I'll take you to your room, shall I?" She scurried ahead.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	5. Methos Ponders Chronos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very brief moment in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claim: Methos (whom I do NOT own, alas.)  
> Prompt: Time.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; so far, unbeta'ed  
> Word count: 184 words  
> Author's Note: Thanks to all those who encouraged Mia! Additionally, many thanks to all those kindly linguaphiles who educated me in regard to Χρονος (Chronos). ;-) Apparently, "Chronos" (Χρονος) is Greek for the personification of "time". (Link: http://linguaphiles.livejournal.com/3308328.html?view=64394792)

Methos smiled to himself quietly as he waited by the car. St. Frances Catholic School was one of those places you knew for ages and thought would never be of much value to you. And at length time proved you wrong.

There certainly was a reason why the consort of Χρονος was Aνάγκη, the Goddess Anankê, who personified inevitability. No matter how long you thought you had found the perfect balance, time inevitably brought you round to the conclusion that nothing in life was ever perfect. Whatever you thought, you always had another think coming. Time always proved you wrong eventually, though the lesson was rarely this pleasant.

Usually it brought you within an inch of your life, instead.

Sometimes you got lazy, and time taught you how dangerous that was.  
Sometimes you became arrogant, and time taught you how dangerous that was.  
And most painfully, sometimes you fell in love, and trusted, and time taught you how dangerous _that_ was.

From the latter he felt safe for now. Hopefully time was not yet readying to prove him wrong yet again.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	6. Odd One Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia feels out of place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Exotic.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; so far, unbeta'ed  
> Word count: 316 words

Mia felt like a ferret sniffing its way through a fox hole. She couldn't shake this vague sense of being in the wrong place, alone, and smaller than everyone else around. Maybe it was because she'd forgotten the name of the nun with the wolf eyes while they had been ascening three flights of stairs with broad granite steps, turned a corner, followed a long corridor into another building, went down another stair... and met a couple of nuns to whom Mia was introduced briefly. Mia kept sucking in impressions like a child, and was thoroughly lost, both with the building and the names. Not a very competent ferret.

Finally the nun stopped and opened one of about a dozen white doors along a short corridor. "This is your room."

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

 

When Mia returned alone, she looked like a schoolgirl after a thorough scolding. Methos grinned to himself. The more different everything here was from Mia's previous life, the better. This looked different enough. When she reached him, he handed her a calendar. "You'll need this. Apart from your classes, it contains a list of things you have to get done, training recommendations and some useful phone numbers."

She heard him out, then had a closer look at the calendar. "Ballet lessons?"

"Good for coordination, flexibility etc." She might as well understand why. "I won't be able to train you for a while, so you'd better prepare for training. Next time we meet, I won't be as gentle as I've been in our last training session." She nodded, but she was wearing that lost expression again. "Mia." She looked up at him. "Don't give yourself time to pine. The nights will be bad enough."

Her eyes widened, then he saw them mist over. Her compassion was misplaced, but he let it go. After all, every little helped.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	7. Tabula Rasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia gets ready to make a fresh start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Friend.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; so far, unbeta'ed  
> Word count: 1.678 words

"She's a friend, isn't she?" Mia inquired lightly, leaning against the hood of the car. The metal was hot from the drive. "The nun?"

"Mary Magdalen? I don't think she'd call me a friend." He smirked amusedly, but didn't elaborate. Instead, he continued, "She'll be a good friend for you, though. Just make sure your students don't trample her flowers, and you'll be fine."

"Her flowers? Which ones?"

"Better keep the whole garden safe, except for the soccer lawn and the playground. She has given up on those." There was no amusement in his voice now.

"That's not much of a basis for a friendship."

He shrugged. "Start small and build. You'll find that works for many things as you get accustomed to new lives."

"New lives, plural!" she exclaimed bitterly. "I don't even know that I can handle this one."

He leaned over to her until his face was close to hers. "You can, trust me."  
Then he went to the car door and opened it. "Meanwhile, be nice to your roommate. Don't kill yourself for her to find your body." He smiled back at her with a sarcastic grin. "Promise?"

"Promise, you oaf." She felt like crying, and his eyes told her that he knew.

He gave her a brief nod, got into the car and drove off. Suddenly she found herself alone in a new environment. There was no familiar face or place to take refuge with. She turned around and quickly went up to her room. Thank goodness the direct way down was easier to remember than the detour Sister Mary Magdalen had taken with her.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

 

As Methos rode back to his own current place of abode, he went over the pieces in the puzzle that could condemn Mia in court. Were there enough clues for a verdict that would confine her in prison for years? That could cause severe problems in several ways. Things were looking unexpectedly good for her, but Methos rarely trusted to luck.

He had done everything in his power to help her while appearing to be a hostile witness. It hadn't been easy, but apparently he had pulled it off. His superiors thought that he had taken Mia here so she would not escape justice by way of either suicide or flight.

Now the question was: Was what he had done so far enough? He wouldn't find out anytime soon, though. In the meantime, there was nothing he could do, except have no contact whatsoever with Mia.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

 

Mia took a good look at the room. Unpacking her things had calmed her. Handling the familiar shapes had felt good. It was lucky she had brought little beyond her teaching materials and a selection of clothing. There wasn't much storing space in here. She had had to place her collection of learning games under the bed.

Now she was wondering where her roommate might be. The other half of the room barely looked lived-in. What kind of person lived like that? Sister Mary Magdalen had mentioned that the woman was a novice in the order, very quiet. Mia had winced at the thought, fearing awkward silences. Oh well, better than a malevolent chatterbox like Ivy Banks, the teacher of the neighbouring classroom in the school she had left behind.

\--

When the door opened, Mia realised she had fallen asleep on the bed. Planning her first lesson there had apparently not been such a great idea.

Now a young nun was looking down at her, a mildly shocked expression on her features. "Oh, did I wake you? I'm so sorry!"

"Umm, it's alright, don't worry. I shouldn't be sleeping, anyway."

The young woman came in and Mia got a better look at her. She was tall, slim and prettier than Mia had expected. Pretty rather than beautiful, but she could hardly have chosen celibacy for lack of admirers. Maybe youthful enthusiasm.

"You must be Mia." She stretched out her hand and Mia shook it with a nod. The smile was shy and a bit uneasy. She probably knew more than the name. Good. It might spare Mia some questions she didn't care to answer. "I'm Cary. I mean, that's what my friends call me."

Mia suddenly realised that Cary was still almost a child. What could she be, somewhere around nineteen? No wonder she was so unsure. Mia smiled. "Nice to meet you. Sorry I'm still a bit drowsy." She cringed her nose briefly. "It's never a good idea to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. I should remember that," she said with a wry grin, then added, "Good thing you woke me."

"That's kind of you to say." The look in Cary's eyes was too sharp. She'd seen through Mia's polite lie. She didn't seem to look down on her for it or anything, but she had definitely seen through it.

Oh well. "I try." Mia shrugged helplessly.

Cary sat on her bed, her legs primly side by side, her hands folded in her lap. She said nothing for a while and just watched Mia. Finally she offered, "I'll have to go through my prayers now. But if you need anything, don't hesitate. I'd be happy to be of use. It's just..." She hesitated. "I don't want to be a busybody. So I hope you're not shy, because then that would be two of us." She shrugged, too, giving her an apologetic smile.

Mia nodded seriously. "I'll do my best. I should work, though, and I'm all set. Thanks."

Cary nodded happily, reached for a small black bound book and began to read in it, her lips moving silently.

Mia was glad to be rid of her attention. She carried her heavy folder to the large desk by the window and resumed preparing her first lessons.

After a while she found herself staring out of the window. Not that there was anything much to be seen out there, just the inner court of the building. There was a very large tree in the middle of a large grassy square. If she was supposed to keep the kids off it, she would hardly have a quiet moment during the day.

For now, however, her mind was as blank as her social life agenda. A blank slate. Oh, yeah, her social life, she thought bitterly. Even talking to Ben was out of the question now. Sister Mary Magdalen and Cary were the only ones who might count as minor entries. They'd have to serve as focal points now that she was trying hard not to think about her dead lover anymore. Other than that, nothing. Her address book held colleagues, but they all evoked memories of the life she had led. Of Andy. She didn't have the guts to call any of them. She sighed.

The lesson she was preparing was about emotions. She was going to ask the children to name emotions and describe them. She liked that part, it would work. But what of the less verbal children?

She looked over her shoulder to see if Cary was still praying. She was, but apparently she noticed she was being watched and met Mia's eyes. She smiled, but didn't interrupt her prayer.

Right. Mia decided to make a list of emotions she really wanted to include in the lesson. She wrote,

"How are you feeling?

\- happy  
\- sad  
\- bored  
\- excited  
\- angry  
\- tir" No, wait. Being tired wasn't an emotion, it was a physical state. She struck the entry through. Obviously her brains weren't functioning today.

"Is there anything you need?" came a voice from behind her.

She turned around and gave Cary an abashed smile. "Oh, I was just..." This was a little embarrassing now, disturbing the nun because she couldn't manage to do her job properly by herself. Oh well. "I was looking for an idea." She shrugged.

"What is it you are doing?" The freshfaced young woman seemed genuinely interested.

"I want to teach the children to talk about their emotions. But I'd also like to have something less ... talky, you know? It's just I don't think having them pantomime on my very first day would be such a great idea. They get too excited or too shy." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Besides, they are a bit young to try and draw more than a face that's either happy or sad."

Cary got up, took a sheet of paper from her part of the desk, found a thick felt pan and drew an oval as large as the sheet size would permit. Two more ovals inside it, side by side. Ah, a face, of course. The pupils were placed in the middle of each eye, which gave them a startled expression. A green crayon lent a sickly colour to the smiley, and the zigzagging line of the mouth matched it. She held the sketch up.

"Show them something like this and ask them to imitate it. Then you could ask for matching gestures. Is that what you had in mind?"

"Oh my gosh, you've hit the nail on the head!" Mia was startled by the ease with which this shy girl had solved her problem and drawn a rather funny picture to boot. The children were going to have a blast, and this way they weren't likely to go overboard, either. It was all so simple! "Wow, thanks a lot!"

"You know," Mia pursued after a moment of thought, "I could even..." She stopped herself, when she noticed that Cary wasn't standing beside her anymore. In fact, the young nun was already getting ready for her prayers again. "Uh. Sorry. I'll tell you about that later, ok?"

Well, she definitely needed to make more large smileys, covering all the emotional states she wanted the children to name. She sat down and set to work. As she was drawing and planning ahead, the weight on her soul lifted a little for the first time in weeks.


	8. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had all been too easy - but Holy Ground is not always safe ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Enemy.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; so far, unbeta'ed  
> Word count: 1005 words

Six weeks had passed and Mia was getting nervous. When would she have to appear in court? Wasn't there anything happening, shouldn't there be more appointments with her lawyer? But for the time being, nothing happened.

Apart from this, however, the uneventful days at the cloister did her good. Her days were filled with activity, and at night she slept less fitfully by now. There still were bad dreams, crying fits, and memories that haunted her with the knowledge of what she had lost. One didn't forget the love of one's life so easily. Still, she did feel a little calmer now. A little more in control of herself.

Meanwhile, school had started, and being busy did her good. She was quite frank with the kids, told them that she had lost her beloved significant other. It was only fair. They needed to know that her breakdowns had nothing to do with them. So far, the children had not tried to use it against her, either. That was a relief. After all, kids could be downright cruel sometimes.

Ben had been right about the ballet lessons. They did her body good. She didn't feel very graceful, but her muscles were growing stronger and her posture was improving. Very likely all that stretching was due, too, even if some poses felt pretty awkward.

Sometimes, when she had finished preparing lessons for her school kids, she even went down and offered to help the nuns working in the garden while her roommate went through one of her daily prayers. Cary was a nice kid, but her schedule was surprisingly full. The garden offered more stability. Weeds could be plucked out of the gravel paths at all times, and by now the nuns seemed to have accepted that she didn't need to be supervised. She pictured her fears and past pains and uprooting them with a firm hand. That way she weeded on furiously and kept her mind from wandering near Andy. Except sometimes it didn't work, and she broke into tears quietly. Bending down as if inspecting the roots of a plant, she hoped people didn't notice. But whenever that happened, somehow Sister Mary Magdalen always showed up with a cup of camomile tea after a little while.

Even so, Mia hadn't seen much of Sister Mary Magdalen. The nun was not in charge of the garden, as she had assumed originally. In fact, Mary Magdalen, as she begged to be called, taught biology in the highschool that also belonged to the monastery. Even when she brought that tell-tale cup of tea, she didn't stay to chat. She merely set down the cup with a smile and a wink, and left. Perhaps Mia should have considered that a sign of intrusive surveillance, but instead she felt protected and cared for. So she meekly drank her camomile tea and went on weeding. And she was glad, in a way, that once she had finished with the gravel paths, the weeds would probably have grown enough for her to start over again.

Small steps, simple tasks, little authority and responsibility outside her job. It was all she could handle. She functioned rather well in school, but once she left the classroom, she needed all the diversion she could get. Even if it was just weeding or chatting with a nun about people she didn't know. Anything would do, if only it kept her mental focus away from the eerie gut-feeling the told her she had a debt to pay.

Ever since Ben had explained "The Game", she had known she would never "win the prize". One day she would step out and be challenged to fight for her life by another Immortal, and she wouldn't stand a chance. The thing was, it was only fair. She had gotten her lover killed and had jeopardised the lives of several others. That nobody else had been seriously hurt was a jackpot of pure luck, nothing else. How could she claim she deserved to live?

Ben had told her she was safe here, but she never did feel safe. One, she had felt safe in the car, too, but they had both been killed. Two, if someone came here who had any inkling of martial arts, they could easily drag her off the grounds of the monastery, and where did that leave her then? No, the truth was, she was not safe, never, nowhere. Not without Ben, and she could hardly expect him to babysit her all the time. Certainly not now. He had to stay away until her trial.

And that was why, when she suddenly felt that painful surge going through her body like high voltage electricity, she knew right away that her respite was over. An Immortal had found her. She was going to die.

Her looking out of the widow was not to confirm her suspicion. It was just for curiosity. The dark lone figure in the driveway was looking up. It was a woman. Steely eyes looked for and found Mia's window. Her time was up. All she could do was go to meet her destiny outside rather than in here.

Without thinking, she stood in front of the mirror and checked on her hairdo. It was fine, almost exactly like it had been in the morning before school. The features seemed like those of a stranger, but she did recognise the defiant expression in her eyes. She blinked. Yeah, that was all she was, a blink in the face of Immortal time. She had only just come into the Immortal world, and now she would be gone for good. If only she hadn't been given time to realize how much she still wanted to live.

She went down the stairs and along the corridor in a daze, her heart heavy. Finally, she opened the door to leave the building.

"You don't even have a sword?" a female voice sneered. As if that mattered now. When you know that it's over, you don't care how.


	9. Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia experiences some enlightening but not very comfortable moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lover.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; none, except so far not beta'ed  
> Word count: 942 words

  
  
Methos had just dropped into the hammock in a corner of his flat. In the warmer half of the year it was a great place to hold a siesta or enjoy a lazy afternoon with a book in hand. Now he was preparing to doze off for a minute or two. But alas, the phone rang.  
  
It was Sister Mary Magdalen, who had appalling news: Mia had passed her on the corridor; according to the nun she had looked "odd in a seriously worrying way". In other words, she thought Mia was going suicidal. And for all the calm and secluded life she lead now, her judgement was based on experience. One usually did well to trust her instincts. In fact, that was why he had asked her to keep an eye on Mia in the first place.  
  
Now the question was: Should he come to Mia's rescue, or should he stay put? He had checked: There was no Immortal in the vicinity. It was unlikely anyone knew about her, even more unlikely they'd go and seek her out in a monastery. She didn't have much of a Quickening to offer yet. Equally, she didn't stand much of a chance finding something that could behead her, and it was physically impossible to decapitate oneself.   
  
All in all there was little point in going, unless you counted the fact that Sister Mary Magdalen would never forgive him if he didn't. She knew about Immortals, so she shouldn't have worried quite so much. Well, the woman had certainly changed over the years. Anyway, did that mean he had to worry, too?   
He mulled the problem over a little longer. In the end he decided to stay and face the music from the nun later. There were more important things to attend to. He smiled down at his bottle of beer. Oh yes, much more important.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Mia was facing a tall redhead. Bitterness had drawn harsh lines in her hawk-like features, but her eyes told a different story. They held contempt, but also ... Well, Mia thought she was relieved. Maybe she wasn't so experienced, after all. Maybe she couldn't have dragged another Immortal outside. What an imbecile Mia had been to come out here!  
  
"How could he not give you a sword?!" There was rightful indignance in the woman's voice. She spat out lengthy and venomous curses, presumably aimed at Ben. Odd woman. What did she want?  
  
"Are you done yet?" Mia inquired quietly. By now she was quite sure that she wasn't in any immediate danger, if only she kept talking. "I guess it was because in there I don't need a sword. And swords aren't that easy to get, you know."  
  
The woman laughed. "My, are you young!" Then her features darked again. "He has a seperate sword for every house he owns, and I bet he has a spare blade conceiled in each car he drives."   
  
Suddenly Mia had a revelation. She couldn't say how she knew, but there was something in the tone, something in how the stranger was focused on the man who wasn't even here... "Are you jealous?"  
  
She gasped, "What?!" Oh boy. Maybe she shouldn't have brought that up. Now the woman was too angry for words.  
  
"Look, if you guys are a couple, ..."  
  
"Quiet, you fool!" She was furious, yes, but she wasn't attacking. "We are NOT a couple. We are the OPPOSITE of a couple." She was breathing hard.   
  
Mia said nothing. She just watched. It was like watching a child during a trantrum. In her opinion, when a kid threw a fit it was best to just wait it out without doing anything. If you could afford it, it was even better to ignore the child completely, but that was no option here. Now she kept her silent calm out of habit rather than because she felt calm inside. Even so it seemed to work. While the woman held her level gaze, the angry crease above her nose softened.  
  
Suddenly she said, "I'm Cassandra."  
  
"I'm Mia Thom..." She stopped. The woman hadn't given a last name, either. "I'm Mia."  
  
A mild sarcastic smile graced the painted lips. "I know."  
  
It was time. No point in postponing the question forever. "Why are you here? Are you going to...?" It was harder to pronounce than she had anticipated. She couldn't bring herself to say it.  
  
"Am I challenging you? No. I have no quarrel with you. Besides, you wouldn't be worth the trouble." Had that been a chuckle or a sneer?   
  
"Then why?"  
  
"I was curious."  
  
Oh, really, now? "About someone who wouldn't be worth the trouble?"  
  
"About someone who got Methos to take an interest in a new Immortal."  
  
Dang, now she had missed something! "Who?  
  
"Methos." The woman seemed to take a strange delight in speaking the name. Mia thought her tone was kinda malicious, but maybe it was just suppressed ... well, love. "Your teacher. Whatever his current alias is."  
  
"Ben." She tried to remember, but her memory of the first few days after Andy's death was full of holes. "I don't even know his last name." Ouch. To Cassandra that probably sounded like she was in love herself. Let her assume what she liked. She'd realise the truth sooner or later.  
  
"Typical." This time it was contempt without the least bit of anger that her voice carried. "Distance, walls, sarcasm. He's shielding himself all the time."  
  
"From what?"  
  
Contempt was turning into sadness. "Life. Death. Everything."  
  
"You're in love with him."  
  
Cassandra looked into her eyes and told her with feeling, "It's a lot more complicated than that."  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -


	10. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cassandra fulfills a wish of Mia's, Mia has reason to regret uttering it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Grief.  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; none, except so far not beta'ed  
> Word count: 873 words

  
The two female Immortals had been eyeing one another in silence for a while. At length Mia sighed, "You know, I went down here feeling sure that I was going to die. That's a strangely liberating thought. It gives me the freedom to say: Forgive him for making you love him. Do you feel like that a lot? I mean, that you can say anything?"  
  
The woman's hawk-like features softened somewhat, and her eyes stopped focusing on Mia. She looked lost. "Yes and no. I am not bound by the conventional rules of curtesy, but as an Immortal and a witch I must watch my every word, even so. In modern terms, I am a control freak when it comes to talking. I've always had to be that." Thoughtful, Cassandra turned to go.  
  
"We could have been friends."  
  
"Could have?" Cassandra's eyes pierced her.  
  
Mia blushed. She had said that to keep the woman from leaving her alone. It really wasn't fair. "We could be. It's just ... you don't look like you like me."  
  
"I just don't want to be your teacher." Suddenly the older Immortal smiled. "Not that you wouldn't make an interesting student, but it would be a favour to Methos, and I am NOT doing him any favours. Except perhaps letting him live."  
  
So Mia was being punished for Cassandra's and Ben's relationship being a mess? Ouch. Still, she didn't want to be ungracious enough to say as much. "I need someone I can talk to. I need to... I don't know. I'm so terribly numb!"  
  
Not only the expression of the woman's sharp features changed, but also her posture, her ... aura? Actually, it was as if she had become a completely different person. A person in authority, who knew precisely what was in order and that it was her business to see it done. "You want to feel your pain?"  
  
Mia shook her head. "I don't want to. I have to."  
  
Cassandra nodded. Almost in slow-motion, she stepped forward and put her hand on the top of Mia's skull. That was all, just an odd caress. Old-fashioned.  
  
For a while nothing happened. Mia didn't want to shake the hand off. Right now she could use any sign of friendliness from other Immortals. They, at least, had some inkling of what she was going through. So she just kept still and waited.  
  
Her eyes widened. She wasn't seeing Cassandra's face anymore. Nor the scenery, either. All of a sudden she realised that she was back in the little sports car Andy had given her only a few weeks ago, she was back in the car, but this time she had time to actually watch everything happening. This time she had time to listen. She heard Andy's shocked intake of breath as they were catapulted directly at the trees. She heard him die. Above the noise of metal colliding with wood, above the noise of breaking safety glass, she heard his neck snap. She saw herself open her seatbelt. Inevitably, her gaze turned toward her dead lover, exactly as she remembered that moment. She wanted to look away, wanted to close her eyes, but she could do nothing. The beloved face had looked fairly peaceful, considering the circumstances... But...  
  
Cold, she was cold. Maybe it was an after effect of the heat? No, it seemed to come from inside. The cold pierced her, froze her, threatened to break her. Could she even...?  
  
 _I can't touch you anymore._  
  
The tears that rolled down her cheeks were hot. The hand on her head warmed her. Now there was another hand on her shoulder. She wanted to crawl into that warmth, but she couldn't. Something held her, rooting her to where she was standing. A cold light was inside her. No, not cold. Neither cold nor warm. Painless and strangely indifferent. It went through her whole body, head to toe, and nailed her to where she was. It exposed her. The numbing defences were gone. Words in her mind tore at her:  
  
 _I can't kiss you anymore._  
  
Suddenly she was again back in the car. She was turning to kiss her lover, but he lay dead. Instead, fire and pain filled her mouth as she screamed...  
  
 _I can't make you smile._  
  
Andy's face had been indifferent. No emotion, the light of love gone from his eyes, his mirthful laughter irreconcileable with this fairly peaceful, but lifeless ...   
  
_corpse._  
  
The light inside her flickered, then was gone. Screaming her pain helplessly, Mia found herself embraced by Cassandra's surprisingly strong arms. The embrace felt good, but it was no consolation. She felt utterly lonely. Nothing could penetrate the invisible wall that separated her from her surroundings. Even now that her tears wet Cassandra's beautiful silk blouse.  
  
"Hush," the other Immortal murmured, "Hush, little girl. You're not as alone as you feel."  
  
Mia knew she should have been perplexed at the aptness of those words, but her only reaction was thinking ' _What does it matter?! Andy's GONE!_ '  
  
No, actually at the back of her mind, one more scary notion was begging for her attention: if Cassandra had had the power to let Mia go through all this, one really didn't want her as an enemy...  
  
\--  
  
Cassandra could not quite escape Mia's grief, no matter how she tried to keep herself aloof. Losing a loved one...  
  
The truth was, Mia was right. What the young Immortal was feeling was all too familiar to Cassandra. She had felt a pain much like this when Methos had let Kronos take her away.   
  
But if that had been the pain of losing him, why had it never stopped hurting?  
  



	11. Fickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they grow, human souls may wax and wane like the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Moon  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen; none, except so far not beta'ed  
> Word count: 349 words

Every once in a blue moon, one got a chance at... Cassandra shook her head, wishing she could shake off the thoughts swarming about her mind. Methos' young Immortal, this Mia, had disgracefully sound instincts. She'd probably be fun to teach if she had never heard of ... whatever name he was using right now. Bill, was it? Or Bob?

Cassandra looked out of the window of the Greyhound bus that was taking her home. Did it really matter? His names changed as quickly as the landscapes passing by, as quickly as the moon's mask of shadow... It was the true face that mattered, and Cassandra doubted that she'd ever seen Methos' true face.

\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

Mia, too, was left very thoughtful by their encounter. This Cassandra woman had done something to her, but she couldn't put a name to it. She wasn't even sure whether she had tried to help or make things worse. There had been this light, pale as the moon, soft yet strong, and it had exposed her to her own desperation... Maybe the numbness had been more merciful, after all.

On the other hand, she had asked for it. If you could ask for something so strange and suprising and... well, something you didn't know was possible. Anyway, it wasn't fair to complain, was it?

Hope, desperation, anxiety, self-blame,... Those moods washed over her like tidal waves, as she thought about it. Tried to think. One wasn't very rational while fearing those waves might drown one... Still. At least she could feel again. At least she was alive. You couldn't drown, you couldn't die from the sheer intensity of your desperation, unless you were alive. But what she had told Ben was still true: She didn't want to die. An animal part of her clung to life with unpredictable force. However, she wasn't sure she wanted to live. And his answer had been profound, but not helpful. He kept himself apart. Or had that been her own fault? This terrible numbness...

She sighed. Yes, she'd asked for this alright. But how she wished she hadn't!


	12. Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the lives of Immortals, the Game may govern all, but it isn't everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Game  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen or maybe PG-13; none, except so far not beta'ed and some swearwords  
> Word count: 1800 words

  
The ballet lessons were fun, but when the teacher suggested supplementing the lessons with different dancing styles, Mia gave an excited squeal.   
  
After meeting this Cassandra woman and then having a talk with Sister Mary Magdalen yesterday, she could use anything that would distract her from the thoughts that kept going round and round in her mind. Besides, she'd always wanted to try tap-dancing, and that was what the teacher preparing to show the class during the last half hour of their lesson today.  
  
That half-hour proved, indeed, a fine distraction: It was great fun and she didn't think of anything but getting her feet to do the correct moves without looking down too much.   
  
However, it was a brief respite - as soon as she was in the changing room, the unpleasant thoughts caught up with her.  
  
Sister Mary... - no, just Mary Magdalen, she reminded herself. Anyway, the nun had called Ben "a cold-blooded bastard". In those words, no less. Sure, her tone had been kinda fond, but she had meant every syllable, and that made absolutely no sense. As if Mia didn't have enough things in her life that made no sense. Like being here, alone, instead of ...  
  
She slipped into the shower, where she could cry to her heart's content. Here in the dance institute nobody came and brought her tea.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
Methos had told himself he'd face the music from Sister Mary Magdalen later. Well, later was NOW, he discovered, when he lifted the receiver after about the 20th ring. At it was gonna be lot of music to face.  
  
The difficult part was that Mary Magdalen didn't scream and shout, though she might occasionally curse. She neither lifted nor lowered her voice, but found words that were hard to ignore. It was difficult to not listen since what she said was ... interesting. It was always fresh, usually original, sometimes unprecedented.   
  
But then, much about the nun was unique. She had gone from prostitute to nun in half a year - without turning into one of those overpious I'm-better-than-thou-because-I'm-more-humble nuns.  
  
So he listened, with smile on his lips and a frown on his forehead.  
  


\- -+- - -+++- - -+- -

  
  
It was dark. Mia had woken with a pulsing in her love lips, so still half lost in her dreams she automatically turned and reached out to touch...   
  
She fell on the floor, and icy realisation flooded her. Again.  
  
She crawled back into the covers and pressed herself against the wall, frantically trying to imagine it was Andy. Of course it didn't work. The wall didn't have arms to hold her. It had no mouth to kiss her. It didn't have Andy's beautiful, strong hands to caress her. It didn't have his ticklingly hairy chest. The wall was a cold, hard, straight, dead thing - everything a human body wasn't.  
  
 _Dead. Dead like Andy. Dead, dammit!_  
  
She wanted to hammer her fists against the wall, but of course that would only wake the girl in the opposite bed, and she wouldn't feel a iota less guilty. So she just bit into her bedsheet, clawed at it, while tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
\--------------  
  
The next morning she looked in the mirror and was surprised her eyes weren't as red and swollen as they felt. She had expected to look more or less like a frog suffering from a sinus infection.  
  
It was Saturday, and soon she'd have to go to the gym, where she'd curse the schedule Ben had given her. But right now she had a little time. So she finished tidying herself up, dressed and left the room.  
  
By now finding her way around here wasn't difficult anymore. A turn to the right, another to the left, down some steps, a long corridor, ... She stopped in front of one of the many doors covered in thick white paint and knocked.  
  
The voice calling her in sounded muffled through the heavy wooden door. Mia entered.  
  
She had been here before, but always on business. Now it was different, which made her pretty nervous. She decided to take the bull by the horns, sat on the nearer of two wooden chairs and looked straight at Sister Mary Magdalen: "I think I'm having a relapse."  
  
The nun smirked, "It took you a while to notice." Her tone switched from amused to more serious. "Ever since that woman was here, you've been different. What happened?"  
  
"You watched? Why..." A dozen questions in Mia's head fought to be uttered first.  
  
"You should have seen your expression: you looked like you were going to try and kill yourself," the other woman explained bluntly in a soft voice. "Of course I watched."  
  
"Actually, I thought I was going to _be_ killed."  
  
"She's one of you, isn't she." It wasn't a question.   
  
Mia just stared.   
  
"Yes, I know what you are, and I know about the Game."  
  
"Oh, f..." - she stopped herself only just in time - "the Game!"  
  
"Better not. I think it's what is keeping you alive. - Not the fighting, just knowing that you are in danger." Oddly, that made sense.  
  
And it meant she could stop playing hide-and-seek and instead enter into the truth-or-dare phase of friendship with the woman. She sure wanted some truth. "Can I ask you something? Why did you call Ben a... " She hesitated.  
  
"A cold-blooded bastard, if I recall rightly," she grinned and met Mia's eye. "Because that's what he is. To survive your Game, he killed people." She let that sink in before she added, "He killed them in one-on-one fights to the death - I came to know him by watching him do so. And I saw the look in his eye, and I recognized that look. Take my word for it, he's a cold-blooded killer."   
  
Suddenly Mia was reminded of what she had first thought about the nun's eyes: they reminded her of a wolf. She swallowed.  
  
Silence ensued, but finally curiosity took over. "And why is he a bastard?" Mia inquired.  
  
"He's also a cold-blooded lover," the nun smirked. There was a glint in her eye that Mia found very hard to categorize. Was her leg being pulled? The nun sighed. "He plays games, he pushes buttons,... Knowing too much about human nature does not always improve people's character."  
  
"But ... you like him."  
  
"Of course." So at ease. So at peace. Mia envied Mary Magdalen. "It's my duty as a Christian to try and love every human being." At seeing Mia's shocked expression, she laughed. "No, that's not why. He just doesn't make that duty all that difficult."  
  
Mia nodded. It was hard to explain, but for all his edgy aura, one didn't find it hard to trust or like Ben.  
  
"But you were going to tell me what happened between you and that other..." The nun hesitated just a tiny bit. "Immortal."  
  
Mia had gone for truth. She could hardly deny Mary Magdalen the same right, could she now? "Frankly, I haven't the foggiest idea. I ... Look, I know this sounds like I haven't got all my beans in here." She tapped her forehead with a finger. "I told her how numb I felt, and that I needed to get into contact with my real feelings. And ... I think she helped me on that count. But either the effect is wearing off or ..." She shrugged.  
  
"You wonder if you are going nuts. Maybe you are." The wolf eyes were calm. "Pain can cause madness. But I don't think yours will last."  
  
"What, the madness or the pain?" Mia spat.  
  
The nun rose, took a little packet from a shelf and filled a pot with water and put it on a tiny stove at the far end of her small room. "Neither will last. You'll just have bear the pain and fight the madness, that's all."  
  
Mia felt tears welling up and looked straight at the other woman. "And you'll help me?"  
  
"I can't help you bear the pain, Mia. All I can do is help you stop short of madness. That, I'll do with all I have at my disposal."  
  
Blended with salty tears, the tea tasted rather awful.   
  
"Mad or not, I can't win," Mia finally said after a longish silence. "That woman... she could have killed me, easily. Any beginner could kill me, I guess." She shook her head, drank another sip of tea. "Without Andy, I don't even know what I'm fighting for. What's the point of surviving, anyway?" She turned to face Mary Magdalen. "Shouldn't you recommend that I turn the other cheek rather than fight back?"  
  
"I cannot demand of you what I can't do myself, can I? I'm a nun, not a saint." The nun sure had a gift for dry and poignant remarks. "Besides, I don't think there has to be a point. If someone challenges you, you try and survive. Anyone would. Fear is motivation enough." Mary Magdalen sounded as though she knew from first-hand experience.  
  
"Alright, suppose fighting is sort of automatic and happens anyhow. But... I don't have to try and get better if there's no point. You know?"  
  
The nun threw up her hands. "Did I mention I'm a nun, not a philosopher? All I can say is that all that training and stuff seems to keep you sane. That's a very good reason to keep it up in any case. Ben knew what he was about when he gave you all that stuff to do."  
  
"Yeah, he knew I'd always lose to him, anyway. There is no way in hell or high heaven that I'd ever win." She shrugged. "Which brings us back to the question of why I bother, anyway."  
  
"Because I don't think winning is the point of the Game. The point is trying." The nun shrugged, too. "Just an outsider's unprivileged guess."  
  
Mia snorted impatiently. "The point is trying. Yeah, right."  
  
"Once you enter the Game, you can throw your life away at any time without effort. What's the point in doing _that_? It's no accomplishment, it doesn't bring your sweetheart back, it doesn't make the world a better place,..." Again the woman paused to shrug, then she sighed and continued, "When it's life or death, humans choose life. We're built that way. No point needed. But seriously," she raised a forefinger in a jocular threat, "if you ever choose death, you'd better have a very good reason."  
  
There was compassion and humour in the wolf-like eyes.  
  
Mia smiled a tight little smile. "I won't live to regret it."  
  
Mary Madgalen turned very serious and leaned forward to study Mia's expression. Her voice soft, she warned, "I wouldn't be too sure. They say the last second of a life can be VERY long."


	13. A Game of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Children  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen or maybe PG-13; none, except so far not beta'ed and some swearwords  
> Word count: 577 words
> 
> (originally posted on dreamwidth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course lots of children people school and class. How would they react to Mia's relapse?

It was again the children who saved her. Somehow they seemed to sense she was none too well and were clearly putting their little heads together to dicuss her trouble. They were not only being extraordinarily good, but she saw them whispering and glancing at her. Their attention reminded her of her responsibilty.

She forced herself to smile more, to concentrate on their problems rather than her own, to simply do her job. It helped. A lot. Years ago she had read that even if you forced your features into a grin, it would improve your mood. She had never been able to believe any of it. But now that she was fulfilling the prerequisite, she found this odd promise to be true. Indeed, it was a comfort.

And then the cards started to turn up.

The first one had been slipped into her room under the door, she noticed upon arrival late in the afternoon. It contained a short piece of band aid, cut inexpertly, and said, "You look like you've been hurt." Clearly a child had written this.

She discovered the second card in her bag among the housework leaflets she was giving the children back. This one was written in scrawly capital letters: "If you feel out of luck, this should help." It held a lucky four-leaf clover that had been dried and pressed. Like in the first one, there was no signature.

She stared at it, then she told the class that now she was feeling very lucky, showing them the clover. "I don't know who has given me these cards, but thank you so much! They have cheered me a great lot." There were tears in her eyes, and for once they were tears of happiness.

The third card, which had sat waiting in her drawer in class, was typed: "We still have more. This is for when you feel like crying." A paper handkerchief with a smiling cartoon turtle on it. The turtle was in a mean shade of pink.

The next card she received through Mary Madgalen. Mia had been working in the garden and was experiencing one of those sudden mood drops that still came and went, even though they had decreased a bit in number and severity.

The nun brought Mia tea, and with it she gave her a card. "I had to swear I wouldn't tell you who this is from." She grinned amusedly and left.

The large home-made card was covered in hand-drawn green grass and brightly coloured flowers. Inside on the right-hand page, a cupboard was drawn. On the opposite page in a horrible scrawl - probably someone writing with the wrong, the untrained hand - were the words "Four when you need a hiding place." The typo made her smile.

She kept getting cards every one or two days for two full weeks. Finally, when she came to class, another card was sitting on her desk.

She smiled at the class and strode over. She took the card up. No text, just scrawly signatures. Beside each signature, a tiny flower.

Without a word, Mia rose, went over to each of the children, hugged them, looked them in the eye and thanked each one quietly. Then the day started with a fun learning game.

The last card stayed on her desk-top for the rest of the year. The other ones Mia hung on the wall, so that everyone would have the chance to be cheered. Additionally, she took a photo of the wall, gave it to Sister Mary Magdalen, asking her to get it to Ben. Perhaps he could use some cheering, too.


	14. Borne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia gets an odd sort of pep talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Birth  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen or maybe PG-13; none, except so far not beta'ed and some swearwords  
> (first posted at dreamwidth)

Later that week, Sister Mary Magdalen asked Mia into her office. Then she sat on a stool as prim as you'd expect from a nun. If anything, she looked a little puzzled, as she handed Mia a cup of herb tea with tiny blossoms swimming in it.

At length the nun opened her mouth to speak, but she was shrilly interrupted by the old-fashioned telephone sitting on an even more old-fashioned bureau.  
Sister Wolf-Eyes took up the receiver said "Hello", listened for an equally brief comeback and then handed the thing to Mia.

Ben's voice, quieter than usual: "Thank you for the card."

"It's just a photo." Why had she just said that? "... I couldn't let go of the originals just yet."

"Are they that much of a lifeline?"

"Pathetic, huh?", she spat.

"You've only just been reborn. You're practically a baby. Do you find babies pathetic?"

"Reborn." She tasted the word in her mouth. Bitter. "Not sure if that really hits the nail on the head... Considering I was reborn flying through the window, I'd say airborne was nearer the mark." She started laughing and only narrowly avoided veering off into hysterics and tears. "But I'll try and get used to the idea that I must learn to walk alone afresh. And stuff."

"So far you're bearing up reasonably well. Try and drop the baggage you've borne this far, and you'll feel reborn alright." There was a dry humour in that softened voice that lulled her into believing she could actually do so. Gosh, how she craved that! Even just the sheer hope she could...

"Meanwhile, how's the training going?" His voice was more clipped again, and much more business-like.

Mia was pulled back into reality brutally. "Uhm,... ah, I don't really get cramps in the ballet shoes anymore, which is great. And I really think I'm getting better. We did a bit of tapdance last time, actually - that was the best training of the week. And..."

"Have you started any proper martial arts just yet?"

"What do you mean, proper? There's already Tai-Chi and Ju-juitsu on my agenda!"

"A baby, indeed. Why would you do only the open-hand arts I chose for you? Get your bottom off the seat and start including weapon training, woman! Or you won't have the TIME to feel reborn."

The line closed.

Somehow, the aprupt end of their conversation made Mia smile.  
She looked up the Sister Mary Magdalen. "If he's such a bastard, then why does he care?"


	15. To Sorely Soar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia takes a new look at her fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Death  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen or maybe PG-13; none, except so far not beta'ed and some swearwords  
> Word count: 1.449 words

  
Mia was staring at an empty sheet of a paper. She was pondering the term "turning the page". And how terribly hard that could be. In a very short time she had been forced to start leading a completely different life. Not only had... She swallowed hard – even thinking it still made her soul whimper. Not only had her lover died, but her teaching, which had been her life from a young age on, had been reduced to a cover story. A life that was essentially a lie had been forced upon her.  
  
Admittedly, the lie was necessary to protect humans and Immortals from each other. Either race might lash out in a pre-emptive strike if the existence of the Immortal race became common knowledge. Even Mia herself found this existence creepy, though she had actually turned Immortal.  
  
At the same time she noticed changes for the better in her body – it was growing slimmer and harder with taut muscles, her skin was clearer, her eyesight better...   
The muscles, of course, were her own doing, as she had been instructed to do various kinds of sports. She noticed the ballet was taking effect: Her tendons were more flexible than they'd ever been, her poise was improving.  
  
Sure, the physical changes were for the better, but... It wasn't HER! She'd never needed to be this strong in order to fight, with bladed weapons or empty-handed. And she still didn't like the idea one bit. Her existence had always been a fairly peaceful one - there had been quarrels, sure, but she had never had to resort to crude violence. Now she had to familiarize herself with all kinds of fighting. No, this wasn't the woman she had been. That woman hadn't died in the car, she was dying NOW, every day.  
  
Also, apparently she had gained ... charisma? People seemed to notice her more readily. Even children appeared more attracted to her, seeking her attention more often. Well, maybe it was because she was fitter and could engage in physically more demanding games now. Her pupils sure appreciated how she had started working dance and motion into her lessons more frequently now. She had discovered it helped keep them attentive.  
  
Yes, she needed to concentrate on that kind of positive effect, if she wanted to stay sane. Instead of pondering her discomfort she had better contemplate the fact she was still doing the same work, still trying to give children the key to a good, fulfilled life.  
  
She shook her head to try and extract herself from her reverie.   
Where had she been?   
  
Right, bubbles. The glassy iridescent orbs never failed to fascinate children. She was going to use them to explore the concept of wind with them. She had borrowed a small army of electric and hand fans so that the kids could each chase a bubble individually. Last time she’d done this... No, better not go there. The past still held too much unsafe ground.  
  
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She had made fists, willing her thoughts away from the dangerous swamp that was the memory of Andy and her killing him in an accident...  
  
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.  
  
Mia got up, opened it, and found Mary Magdalen standing outside. "Come to my room, please there's a call waiting for you. I expect you can guess who it is. It's on official business, though."   
  
She reconized the words, individually, but she failed to put their meaning together. The young teacher was glad to have time on the way to wrench her mind away from the past. She felt too stupid to make a phone call right now.   
  
When they arrived, Mary Magdalen handed her the receiver.  
  
"Hello? Miss Mia Thompson?"   
  
"Uh, yes? Who is speaking?"  
  
"Officer Benjamin Paulson". It still took her a moment to recognise Ben. His voice was so different. It was ... empty. No emotion at all. Empty like her life, now. N...no, that wasn't quite true. Actually it was just a little ... hostile. Well, if he had decided he hated her, then she was as good as dead, anyway. "The date for the trial has been set, as you know." Really? Did she know that? And did it matter? Certainly not if Ben decided to be her judge, jury and ... verdict. "Will you need a public defender or will you appoint a lawyer of your own?" Huh? Oh.   
  
"I ... I don't know. I think I can manage one of my own." Ha, as if she could manage anything beyond doing her job! Her head felt like a balloon filled with wool. She was just saying what was expected of her. Just being good, that was all.   
  
The funny thing was: THAT was her own self, her own personality. At the back of her head she clawed at that thought, held it tight so it wouldn't go away while she wasn't looking.  
  
She brought the formal call to a close as quickly as she could, her mind suddenly clear and free again. She made her excuses to Mary Magdalen and slipped out of her room only moments later.  
  
She went down the staircase, passed through the porch, greeting a group of nuns gathered just outside, and took a deep appreciative breath. It had just rained, so the air was moist, and it even seemed slightly salty to her, as if she were by the seaside. She had always loved the sea. It was wild and romantic at the same time.  
  
She had always been very much the good girl. Wildly romantic, interested in literature and the arts, all the things that were expected of good girls.  
She had fallen in love with good-looking boys who went to good schools and wore suits even in their spare-time. For most of her life she had worn her hair long to go with the girlish blouses and the medium-length skirts.  
  
There had always been expectations to fill. She'd always gone to church, mostly because her parents expectated it. She had read a lot because her friends expected her to know other books than her teachers and she felt she had to adhere to both standards. The badminton classes had been expectations coming from her grandmother, who had excelled at it in her own teens. Table tennis had been an idea of her cousin's. The bead jewelry making had come from another cousin. The teaching... yes, even that had not been her own idea. Her mother had done everything to entice Mia to go for the teaching carreer. When she had died, it had felt like a necessity to fulfil that last wish.  
  
So the question was: Had she ever really been herSELF? Or had she just been a conglomerate of other people's expectations? Had death and immortality maybe freed her to try again?  
  
No wonder she had been in free fall since Andy's death: she had no more expectations to fill. Ben had told her what to do, yeah, but she could not look to him for approval, she could not ask for his guidance. Mary Magdalen even less so. The only expectations to fulfill now came from the school, the children and their parents, and that probably was why she had functioned so well at school.   
  
Suddenly Mia realized she wasn't strolling along as she had meant to do, she was walking so briskly it was almost a jog. But her agitation felt good. Stressless. Natural. Free.  
  
Yes, there was a chance death had freed her. Didn't the phoenix burn to death before it soared again? Perhaps the image was a little too apt for comfort, but there was hope to it.  
  
She breathed in a lungful of moist air. If ... if Andy's belief was worth anything, then death had freed him, as well. Just in a very different way.  
  
Mia wished she shared that belief. But alas, that had been one hope she had not been able to fulfill for him. And Andy being Andy, he had loved her just the same.  
  
She stopped so abruptly that the woman walking behind her on the side-walk bumped into her. The lady made some acid remark, but it barely brushed by Mia's conscious. This was where the catch lay, Mia was thinking as she widened her eyes to stop them from brimming over. She was still dying, for her love for Andy was dying. A little every day, every hour, every second. And if that freed her, it was a freedom she did not want, but was burdened with.  
  
She smiled wrily and started walking again. Clearly, she was a most reluctant phoenix.


	16. Rays of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia is yet again trying to hold on to the love of her life. It's not that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sunrise

Mia knew that eventually she would end up doing a vigil for Andy. Not yet, though. She had tossed and turned all night thinking about it. About how to stop herself from letting go.  
So now she was crouched on the desk by the window, taking advantage of what little predawn light it provided, and tried to draw the love of her life. Sadly, she was pretty awful at it.

She worked quietly, intent on not waking her room-mate, but she'd been within an inch of crying out her frustration several times already. For once, she wanted to create a true likeness. More than just a recognisable depiction, and certainly not a caricature. Soon she felt like she was using the rubber more often than the pencil. She started sweating, it was hard work, trying to get the page clean again.

No, this was no good! She tore the page up. This was too difficult, she could not get the slight crookedness of his features to feel just right! It was always either too even or.. Oh, never mind! She started on a new sheet. Maybe she had better go for the profile. It was... She saw it before her eyes more clearly. The half-smile on his lips, just before she had cupped his dear face. Yes, the profile was easier to do. Hopefully.  
Her pencil scratched over the pristine white of the new sheet. The slightly dented forehead was coming out perfect, just far too small. Oh, shucks, so it would be a quite small portrait! Why not?

His eye... The slant, the perfectly curled eye-lashes she had always envied him for... Good so far. No, the brows needed to be a little thicker. The nose was tricky. Almost straight, just the slightest rounding near the nostrils... How the heck did one draw that?

It took a while, maybe half an hour, then she decided it was the best she could do. The full mouth was surprisingly easy. Only two attempts, and it was as perfect as she expected she'd ever get it. The chin didn't take much longer, either. Now for the REAL difficulty: shading.

The image in her mind was so clear it helped a lot, the rest was trial and error. God, how she'd loved those little laughing lines... Her hands began to shake.

Just as she straightend up and stretched, the first ray of sunlight fell onto Andy's features. The picture wasn't like him at all, and it broke her heart. She had not managed to hold on to her true love, he was still slipping from her fingers. The morning was just one of so many others, and not the new dawn she had hoped for. Or maybe the problem was that it WAS a new dawn - one more step into a new life without Andy, out into the glaring light and away from the comfortable dark of not letting go. There would always be another morning like this, and another and another, until one day Andy would be a distant memory. Forever. Right now, she hated her Immortality, and new mornings, and the irrevocable knowledge that soon enough she'd be fine with either.


	17. Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia decides it's time to say good-bye properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Vigil
> 
> Author: Holde Maid aka Gerda aka Sparrow Holde
> 
> Claim: Methos (whom I do NOT own, alas.)  
> Prompt: Sunset  
> Rating/Warnings: Gen or maybe PG-13; none, except so far not beta'ed and some swearwords  
> Thanks: Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] jinxed_wood for the prompts, and to all those who encouraged Mia! ;-)
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> Neither the characters nor any part of the Highlander universes are mine. Also, no harm or copyright infringement is intended and no profit made, nor attempts at either. :-)

It was time. A vigil for Andy.

It had been inevitable all along, of course. She knew only too well what the phases of mourning were: shock - control - regression - adaptation. In her mind, she knew what emotional reactions to expect: depression, anger, fear, an inability to care ... and then a phase of coping where you began to confront the loss. So, yes, in her mind she knew all too well it was inevitable. But gosh, how she hated herself for this! How she hated herself for being ready for this already, for complying and fulfilling expectations, even those of textbooks, and even if it was so she could survive.

She wished her Immortality were a thing she could attack. She even wished she were stupid enough so she could redirect her anger and blame Ben, but, alas, as it was she'd just have seen right through herself had she tried. And so, she suspected, would he have.

Anyway, it was time.

She'd spoken to Sister Wolf Eyes, who had obtained permission for her to spend the night in the little chapel to hold a vigil of sorts. Everything was ready. She went in and sat down, wishing she had taken something with her that reminded her of Andy. But she had nothing of the kind, it had all been left behind. So what now? The seconds ticked by slowly. Like syrup. The silence was eery. Empty. Also, the artificial lights were not very bright, they felt wrong somehow. Too ... intimate. Yes, that was it, they didn't remind her of a church but of ... ahem ... a boudoir. A place of intimacy. Not that she hadn't shared intimacy with Andy and all that, and she wasn't ashamed of it, either, but you didn't want to remember those moments in a chapel! No, this was wrong, all wrong! She stood and went up to Sister Wolf Eyes. Half an hour later she lay in her bed, staring into the dark, unable to sleep. Not the vigil she had planned on, she thought wryly, and started to make a mental list of tasks for the next days. It took way too long but eventually she drifted off to sleep.

It was more than a week later that she finally could put her plan into action. Public transport rendered the journey a bit tedious, but she didn't really care. Once she arrived, she bought a few necessary provisions - food, drink, a cushion to sit on, batteries for her flashlight - and had a bite to eat.

All preparations taken care of, at last she entered the storage containing all Andy's belongings. She had brought a book on meditation. However, now that the confined, windowless space full of cardboard boxes engulfed her body and mind, reading seemed less than appealing. Of course she could have turned on the strip lamp, but that kind of light was so clinical, so impersonal. Not the light you wanted for a vigil.

Well, a vigil of sorts. The timing was all wrong, of course: a proper vigil, she thought, took place at night. Never mind, she didn't have time to waste, the curious mix of apprehension and excitement wouldn't let her wait until dusk. And besides, in here it was dark all day long, anyway.

Mia pulled the cushion out of her bag and dropped it on the floor. She sat on it, closing her eyes. Immediately she was transported back to that moment when pain had found her again, with the help of that strange Immortal Cassandra.

It had been on her mind, that moment, had followed her around like a ghost. A ghost of fear, most likely. After all, she was preparing to achieve something along the same lines, namely to let the pain flow freely through her soul. She sighed. * _Better get started, before you lose your nerve,_ she thought to herself. She grabbed a random cardboard box and pointed her flashlight at the side that she had noted the contents on. It read, "crockery". She set it on the floor gingerly and, opening it a crack, peeked in. Tea things, plates,... Oh. She could not help smiling. The porcelain clown. Opening the box properly, she took it out. The clown was ugly kitsch, and probably quite expensive. Andy had brought it back from a business trip to Germany. Oh, and how guilty her lover had looked when she hadn't been able to hide what she thought of the little statue! The love this bespoke!

She smiled a little wider, and then the smile broke, and a wimper detached itself from her vocal chords that she hadn't felt coming.

Pain was flowing freely alright, and so were her tears, as she allowed piece after piece to elicit half-buried memories. At last she came to their wedding album, and there it got too much. She had to press her hand across her own mouth to stop herself from wailing Andy's name. She placed the album back in the corresponding carton, which she put back in its place with reverent care. Everthing was back in order and would be waiting here for her to return. Even so it hurt to say good-bye and shut all those memories in in the small dark space. She sighed. Apparently this was not going to be the last vigil.

She didn't even bother with the strip lights overhead, for she only had to cross a few yards of corridor before turning a corner would provide natural light from the front door of the building. The natural light seemed almost too bright by comparison. As she stepped out, she realised it was only sunset. She had thought that far more time had passed than this... She shrugged involuntarily. Time. As if it still mattered.

No, she must not think that way. Time did still matter, even though now unbelievable longevity beckoned. She instantly wanted to spit out the thought that briefly grazed her mind, _Time, that eternal healer_.

Again, no, she must not think that way. If there was any truth to the tripe her yoga teacher had uttered at hearing about Andy's death, then a new incarnation of Andy might yet be out there to be found. In that case, she would find him, and marry him again. So time was hope, and she had better be thankful for it.


	18. Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legal side of things comes into focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claim: Methos (whom I do NOT own, alas.)   
> Prompt: Ink   
> Disclaimer: Neither the characters nor any part of the Highlander universes are mine. Also, no harm intended and no profit made, nor attempts at either. :-) 
> 
> Author's Note: Thanks to jinxed_wood for the prompts, and to all those who encouraged Mia! ;-) 

Mia added her signature in the places the lawyer indicated. He smiled, quipping, "No worries, you're not setting it in stone, just in ink."  
  
She smiled back, politely pretending that the lame joke was entertaining. In her mind, she rolled her eyes at her readiness to fulfill this slimy creature's expectations. Well, this man, who went by the name of William Thornton Bevers, was a renowned lawyer, or so Mary Magdalen had said. Perhaps it was actually a wise move to butter him up. After all he had come to her aid out of the blue, and of his own accord. Of course he did it because he smelled money, yet that didn't mean Mia could be picky. Andy had been pretty well-off, and Mia stood to inherit it all, but she wouldn't be able to access any of that until after the accident had been filed as, well, an accident. So when this William Bevers had called and offered to defend her on the basis of a small fee plus a large bonus if she did not get convicted, he seemed like a godsend. In person, however, the godsend took on a far more mundane aspect.  
  
He grinned toothily, "We'll keep you out of jail, don't worry. Things are not looking all that bad, you know." He gave her a look that was meant to be sincere. Unfortunately she could sense his impatience. He took up his pen with an air of starting in earnest. "Okay, give me all the details you can remember." It was going to be one very long afternoon.  
  
\------  
  
It had taken two hours for William Bevers - no, she was definitely not going to call him Bill, not in her own private mind! - to explore every inch of her story. He clearly tested her here and there to see if she'd change her account of what had happened. She had ended up telling him in an exasperated tone, "Look, I know there are holes I can't fill in, but that's what I remember, and I can't just make up things to satisfy your need for a nice well-rounded story. I don't give a ... fig how well you like it! I'm a human being, not a recording machine!"  
  
At that, Bevers had grinned, commenting cheerfully, "Perfect. Make that speech in court, and I'll make the jury love you for it." Calling him insensitive would have been the understatement of the century. Mia sighed.  
  
Yes, she was inclined to be thankful for his help, but the truth was she didn't want it. It had taken a veritable sermon from WolfEyes to make Mia accept that she needed a lawyer. When the topic had come up, as it inevitably would, Mary Magdalen had gruffly told her, "Don't be an idiot. It's just selfish of you to listen to the bad conscience you have for surviving your lover. You don't have just yourself and your students to consider any longer. You share a secret with goodness knows how many, and you can't just go and expose your race, or ... whatever it is, by going to prison and maybe getting hurt or something. Think of  _them_  as you plan the trial. It's them you are protecting, not yourself."  
  
Mia had countered, "Are you saying that because you're in love with Ben?" An eery feeling of deja-vu washed over her, as she remembered it.  
  
WolfEyes had been quick to parry, "Why, would that make it any less true?" Her hard stare had made Mia ashamed of herself for needlessly bringing it up. Additionally, she felt self-conscious about having to be told all this at all. Ben had explained it briefly when she had still lived in her own home, but at the time she had not been able to wrap her head around this whole Immortality thing, let alone its consequences. What a baby she was!  
  
If you thought about it, Mia shouldn't have worried about the unfairness of her survival, since it would sort itself as soon as she was challenged by an Immortal. Which could only happen outside mortal justice, naturally. She apologized to WolfEyes and promised to get her act together.

 

And so she did. She took all William Bevers' advice seriously and applied herself to winning her case and her freedom. She cut down on the sports lessons she attended, especially the weapons training. No point in that, really. Instead, she learned a lot about laws and trials and how people could be influenced. Her opinion that Bevers' trade was a dirty one didn't change, but she did come to realise that there was a lot more to it than just learning laws and cases by heart or delivering emotional speeches.  
  
Of course he was not the only liar between the two of them. And apparently he knew it, for one day he said, "I wish you'd let me have the full story." That sounded uncommonly frank and unpretentious. Mia was pretty sure he was not an Immortal - his proximity didn't fill her with anxiety or made her bones vibrate like Ben or Cassandra had. So she merely answered, "I'm as honest as I can possibly be. The rest is not my secret to share. I won't hold it against you if that means we can't win."  
  
William Bevers laughed, "Nah, don't worry, that's not the problem. I'm just curious." And again he sounded sincere rather than stage-perfect sincere.  
  
As his manner switched back to the usual polished slimeball, Mia began to suspect that the latter was just a blind and he was really very different underneath that successful mask. With a start she realised he was speaking again. "...of a cat were found on the tyre that came off and didn't burn. And there's the guy whose car was behind you. And thank goodness you came to your senses in time and called the police. Otherwise you'd find yourself in hot water, but as things stand we've got a pretty good case by now. No reason to worry."  
  
She assumed that meant that the lab reports were now starting to come in, at last. It had been a long wait. Ben had told her that a lot depended on them, and Bevers had said if all went well, there might not even be a trial... Mia found that disappointing, though it was just as well. She muttered, "I almost killed myself, you know. Meant to fling myself down into that chasm, but..I was not granted a cowardly escape." She stopped, realising she could not mention Ben's intervening. "Some twigs held me back, and it felt like the hand of God." Close enough. Now back to the version she'd stuck to before. "So I wandered in a daze, like I told you. At some point I started trying to find my way back, but I was going in the wrong direction. My head wasn't exactly clear, all I could think of was Andy who..." Her voice faltered.  
  
"Yeah," Bevers commented quietly, "suicide is not as easy as it sounds." Mia looked at him, trying to fathom what personal experience lay behind that remark. It felt impertinent to ask him so she just nodded, seeking his gaze. He didn't elaborate, though, and went on, "I wouldn't be a good lawyer if we didn't bring that out in court. If it comes to that, I mean."  
  
Mia shrugged and nodded.   
  
More time passed. She was interrogated again, this time mainly by a female officer whose interrogation style was erratic, emotional and mostly rather empathic with occasional dip into sarcasm or accusation. Trying to be good and bad cop at once got her no new answers, though. Mia did not repeat the same things word by word, but she stayed on course all the time. She reflected for the umpteenth time how very true it was that not straying far from the truth was her best course. The amount of detail she was asked was impossible to remember if you were lying. Her room-mate and Mary Magdalen mentioned that they had been asked about her character, so surely her old colleagues and neighbours had been asked about her, too. She was probably lucky that oddly enough none of them had been jealous of her happiness with Andy.

Bill Bevers came to visit and told her there would be no trial. Both criminal charges and insurance claims were out the window. The cat that must have jumped onto the asphalt unexpectedly was considered the cause of the accident. Someone had come forward and made a statement to that effect recently. Bevers added in a satisfied tone that the general impression was Mia had kissed the ground Andy had walked on, and that she drank no alcohol whatsoever.   
  
At that point, Mia laughed, relieved. "Oh, I do drink alcohol now and then, but I'm really picky, and I don't share my colleagues' infatuation for Baileys."  
  
His eyebrows rose. "Good for you." Then he smiled ruefully, "Guess I should have brought the champagne, after all."  
  
Mia shook her head. "No. There is nothing to celebrate. Andy is still dead."  
  
Bevers swore violently. "You really know how to take the fun out of a success, Mia. Just don't go and try to kill yourself instead, okay?" He slapped someting that looked like an invoice onto the table and left with a brief goodbye.   
  
Mia did not stop him. She did not want to force herself into a celebration that gave her no joy just to fill someone else's expectations. No, she wasn't that kind of person anymore. She took up the leaf she had taken for the invoice and found it to be a hand-written letter wrapped around an envelope. The envelope held the invoice alright.

Smoothing out the letter, she read:

_Dear Mia,_  
  
So far you've only laid the foundations for a new life. When you build a house, the foundations are the hardest and the most crucial part of the job. You have to work really hard to get it all right, or else the rest will keep collapsing around you. Yet when you're done with the foundations, you may easily feel like you've gotten nowhere, despite all your efforts. Foundations aren't much to show off, for all how valuable they are. That's where you are now.  
  
You're in good place job-wise, all your debts are settled, you've been generous in satisfying claims of other drivers, etc. In brief, you can now close this whole accident business, it's over. As I said, you've laid your foundations. Now start from there and build.  
  
To be honest, I've been in your place, more or less. I realise how trite that sounds, but I can tell you from first-hand experience that it's possible to crawl from the dark and come into the light of dawn inch by inch. Also, I can vouch for it that it's worth it, setbacks included. Give it a try. Start building. And if in the process you should need help, I'd be honored to be your man of business, or a friend of the family.  
  
Yours,  
  
Bill  
  
---  
  
  
  
Mia tried to put the epistle down as devious marketing, but it rang too true to her ears. She tried, and failed. This time around, failing felt good. 


End file.
